Know Your Place
by C Cawthorne
Summary: Loki let go and fell from the Bifrost, but how did he get there and where is he going? I'm not so good at these blurbs, but this explores Loki's past and present. Please read and review :
1. Chapter 1  The Fall

Author's note: It's been a while since the movie _Thor_ came out, and I find myself (perhaps unhealthily) obsessed by it. So I'm trying some fic to get it out of my system, or at least give it an outlet other than repeated visits to the theater! I have ideas of making this into a series, if the muse strikes. Loki will remain the central character, with appearances by others.

A few notes before starting. (1) I've never read the comics. My only source of inspiration is the movie, specifically Tom Hiddleston's riviting portrayal of Loki. (2) I loved Norse mythology as a child, so I might draw some on that. (3) Obviously I don't own Marvel's characters or settings. I'm just playing in their universe. The story is mine, and if I ever end up making up original characters, they're mine too. (4) Constructive feedback rocks, and might influence me to write more. :)

**Know Your Place, part one: The Fall**

Loki was not thinking anymore. No plans, no mischief, no plots swirled through his normally busy mind. There was no time for anything but angry instinct, and so he acted. He leapt for his brother as Thor raised Mjolnir to deliver the final blow to the Bifrost, Odin's staff - _his_ staff - raised to strike.

And then the explosion, multicolored light buffeting his vision just as violently as waves of force battered his body. He could see nothing; he could only feel the blows as he flew into the air, the force of it ripping the helm from his head, the staff from his hand. Loki reached out blindly, desperately, searching for an anchor in the chaos, some safe harbor in the Bifrost's final storm. A shadow solidified before him, the edge of the shattered rainbow bridge just out of his reach, and he fell.

Fear welled in him then, sharp and cold and crystalline in its clarity, and he flung his arms out desperately - and, miraculously, one found reprieve. He tightened his grip around the staff and looked up into his brother's face, and up further, into his father's.

Loki's heart leapt. Now his father would see, would know that he was just as worthy as Thor; perhaps he would see that Loki might even be the better son, the one who could think and plan and succeed through intelligence instead of brute force. He called out, baring his soul, telling the full truth of his hopes and dreams. There was freedom in the act, discarding the lies and pretense he was known for, because now his father would fully accept him as his true son. Hope and happiness kindled inside him, a warm glow that shone in his eyes like sunlight through green glass.

"No, Loki."

The gentle words were heavier than Mjolnir and crueler by far than the sharpest blade. The hope inside him shattered, its former warmth now blades of ice shredding and freezing his soul. But that was what he was, yes? What his father would always see him as. A frost giant's cast-off, a tool, a pawn. That was his fate, his _place_. He would never be allowed to be anything else.

But he could _chose _to be something else. Just not here.

Thor's eyes widened above him, understanding him only now, for the first time since they were children. It hurt almost as much as his father's rejection, and made it even easier for Loki to let go. For a moment he soared - perhaps this was what it felt like when Thor flew with his mighty hammer? Loki spread his arms wide, accepting whatever the unknown had to offer.

And then he fell, fell into the wake of the destructive force of the Bifrost. Pain lanced through him as its angry energies engulfed him, carrying him tumbling through the branches of Yggdrasil toward whatever remained of Jotunheim. No more graceful soaring now; Loki was buffeted and struck, bullied and shoved by the wild currents that held him captive. The fear that had melted away now returned to Loki in force. He could not, _would_ not, be exiled there of all places. Never. Better Niflheim, better Svartalfheim, than the place he was born. The only place worse would be Asgard.

_You are the master of unknown paths,_ he raged at himself as panic tried to rob him of the one asset he had left - his mind. Loki closed his eyes against the riotous energy around him, closed his mind against the firey pain tormenting his body, closed his heart to the weeping ruins of his soul, and concentrated. There was no up or down, right or left, not when he was tumbling through space. But the paths existed; he simply had to find them. He reached out with his thoughts, just as before he had reached out with his arms...

Nothing, nothing, blackness and ice, oblivion and fire. Walls that cut, sheer cliffs of roaring power, towering waves of acid. And all the while Jotunheim drew him closer, beckoning him home, whispering for him to take his rightful place on Laufey's throne ... on his father's throne. Loki's scream of rage was silent, but it stripped his throat raw.

And then there was a bright spark in the void, the tiniest of flickering hopes. He reached out desperately, latching his mind onto it like a falcon's talons into frail flesh. With the strength of his will alone he pulled himself toward it, battling the sucking power so intent on dragging him down to Jotunheim. It was agony, this tug-of-war between Yggdrasil and his soul, and he screamed again, frozen tears on his cheeks. Mental inch by inch, he dragged himself away until, an eternity later, he fell onto this new path.

It was light here, and the exquisite pain inflicted by the mortally wounded Bifrost faded into the throb and heat of simple wounds. Loki's green eyes fluttered as he wondered where he was going, and then closed as unconsciousness swept all thought away. It was no matter; the new path did not need its traveller to be aware. The current would sweep, as it always swept, toward Midgard.

_(end part one)_


	2. Chapter 2  Three's a Crowd

_Author's note:_ I woke up thinking about the story, so there's apparently more to come. We're entering into flashback territory - I'd say a majority of the story will be set in the past, with bits of the present coming into play from time to time. Hope you like it!

Once more, I don't own these characters. Marvel (and Norse mythology) does. I'm drawing only from the movie and the myths, not the comics.

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part two: Three's a Crowd**

His mind flickered from time to time as his body was swept on the currents of one of Yggdrasil's hidden paths, trying to find its way back to consciousness. But the battering he had taken was more than even an Asgardian could withstand - at least an Asgardian like Loki, who had never been the strongest of warriors, who had never possessed the vaunted endurance so treasured by his people. His skill, his talents, equal to or better than others (like the peacock Fandral or the oaf Volstagg), were always held inadequate. And how could they be otherwise, when he'd spent his life in Thor's shadow?

At the cusp of consciousness he failed and fell back into the whirl of his mind, even as he swept ever-closer to Midgard.

_**. . . . .**_

"Brother, wait!" Loki called as he scrambled after his big brother, who was humming happily as he strode down the hall. They had been with their father all morning for lessons, lessons that they always shared no matter that Thor was older by a few years. It was no challenge for Loki to keep up, and secretely it thrilled him when he could answer more questions than Thor. But days like this were the best, when their tutors were sent away and Odin himself would share his wisdom with his sons.

Today's lessons were on Svartalfheim because a delegation from the realm was arriving that afternoon. Odin told them of the clever but mischievous Duergar, small creatures who crafted great works but could not be trusted to be forthright and true. Thor had scoffed at the descriptions, but Loki had soaked in his father's words like a sponge as the Allfather imparted how to deal with them. Force could be used, of course, and that was when Thor stopped listening. But their father continued, and Loki learned that flattery, cajolery, and even bribery were the true ways to win favors from the Duergar.

But now lessons were over, and he ran to catch up with his taller brother, panting more out of excitement than exertion as he reached Thor's side. "What do you want to do now? I'd like to see them when they arrive. We could go to the Bifrost to watch, or maybe sneak into the throne room, or..."

Thor shrugged without looking at him, his long strides carrying him toward his room. "I don't care about some short metalsmiths. Run on if you like; I've got better things to do."

Green eyes blinked. "What better things? Where are we going?"

The blonde smirked and stopped. Facing Loki, he put a hand on his shoulder and bent down a fraction so they were eye-to-eye.

"It's none of your business," he said good-naturedly. "I can't have you following me around all the time, Loki. I am older than you, you know."

Loki frowned. "But we're _always_ together. Why can't I come? What are you doing? Is it dangerous?" That was the only explanation that made sense to him; Thor was always trying to protect him, even when he didn't need it.

Thor shook his head and grinned. "No. But it's not your concern. Run along now. Find someone else to play with." And with that he turned away and disappeared into his room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Loki stood there for a moment, frowning. Something was wrong. Thor had never told him to go away before, so why did he now? He was up to something, and his younger brother wanted to know what it was. Frowning, he turned and slipped into his own room across the hall, but he left the door cracked open. Hidden in the darkness, one green eye to that narrow slit, it wasn't long before Loki saw his brother exit his room, garbed now in his practice gear.

He frowned. Thor was going to a weapons lesson without him? Why? He knew he wasn't as good as his brother, but they still always practiced together. _And we don't have a lesson scheduled today anyway,_ he thought as he slipped out of his room silently to follow his brother at a distance. How was he supposed to become as good as Thor was if his brother was getting lessons without him?

Frowning and puzzled, Loki followed his brother out of the castle and into the gardens, through the cultivated areas and into the wilder section (though there was nothing truly wild about it, of course; Loki now knew it was just an area left to grow on its own, though when he was very young Thor had tricked him into thinking it was the woods where the dark elves dwelled, and that they would kidnap him because he had dark hair like they did). He followed on stealthy feet, and when he saw Thor enter the small clearing at the center of the woods he stopped, for certainly this must be where his brother was going?

He heard Thor hail someone cheerfully, and heard a muffled response, but he couldn't see who it was that his brother was meeting so secretly. He was worried about getting closer; he didn't want to be seen, but he did want to see. Looking around, he spotted an old tree with many thick branches, some that stretched to the edge of the clearing. _Perfect_, he thought, and began to climb. It was easy enough, and soon he was shimmying out onto a strong old branch, his presence mostly concealed by big green leaves as he looked down at the scene below.

Thor was sitting on a rock, his practice axe resting on his knees as he waited. The other person wore a cloak, and his back was turned to Thor as he put down a pack and a sheathed sword. The person was shorter than Thor, and slimmer. _Almost the same as me_, Loki realized with a start. _Why does he need to practice with him when he's got me? It's not fair._

And then the person drew off the cloak and dropped it to the ground, and Loki nearly choked. It was a girl, a pretty girl with long blond hair and dark blue eyes. But instead of wearing a dress she wore what looked like some of Loki's own weapons-lessons clothes! She smiled at Thor as she drew her golden hair back into a ponytail, then bent to pick up the sword. "Ready?" she asked, her eyes bright with excitement as she unsheathed the practice blade.

"You're going to fight a girl?" The words flew out of an incredulous Loki before he could stop them, and two pairs of blue eyes flew to his half-concealed hiding place. He faltered for a moment, but the situation was simply too ludicrous. "She's why you left? And why is she wearing my clothes?"

The girl was scowling and Thor was frowning up at him. "Why did you follow me? I told you to go away."

Loki scowled right back. "I can do what I want. I'm a prince of Asgard."

"That doesn't mean you get to nose around other people's business," the girl said, then, ignoring Loki's wordless protest, she turned to his brother. "He'll run and tell on us. What do we do?"

Thor sighed. "Come down, brother. You might as well meet her. Come down, and I'll tell you what we're doing."

"No!" the girl protested, but it was too late. Grinning, Loki leapt from the tree branch to land lightly in the clearing. He knew his brother would always take his side in the end.

"You weren't supposed to know, so I need you to keep this a secret. Will you do that for me, brother?" Thor asked him, his blue eyes quite serious. "It's important."

Loki looked at him, then at the girl, who was scowling at him again. He lifted his chin imperiously, then returned his gaze to his brother. "Of course I'll keep your secret."

"Good." Thor nodded even as the girl groaned and looked away. "Loki, this is the Lady Sif. She wants to be a warrior, and she's good, too, but her family won't let her train. So I'm training her."

"She's a _girl_," Loki said disbelievingly.

"And you're a little boy who should still be in the nursery," Sif spat back, her eyes glowing dangerously.

"I'm twelve!" Loki shot back angrily. "And you're wearing my clothes, so what does that make you? A thief, that's what!"

She lunged for him, hands outstretched, and he dodged quickly, but before he could do anything else Thor stood between them, hands outstretched to keep them apart, laughing. "Loki, I gave her your clothes so she'd have something other than skirts to fight in. You've got enough; I bet you didn't even notice they were missing. And Sif, he may be younger than us, but he's my brother. Treat him well. Let there be a truce between you."

Loki stiffened at his brother's admission, but then stood a little taller. He could prove he was better he accepted before she did. "Truce," he agreed, his chin high again, his green eyes fastened on her face. Even though she was angry she was pretty, and suddenly he wondered if that was why Thor was helping her.

Sif was frowning fiercely, but finally she nodded her head and Thor grinned. "Perfect. Loki, we do need to practice, but if you want to watch you can. Just stay out of the way."

The younger brother opened his mouth to protest, but then noted Sif's mocking eyes and simply nodded. He would show her, of course. She could not be any better than he was. Loki sat on the rock at the edge of the clearing where his brother had been sitting. He drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, then rested his chin on his knees and watched as Thor began her training. After a while he had to admit, unhappily and to himself, that she was good. Very good. Maybe even better than he was. And she was beautiful, a golden-haired goddess of lethal grace. Loki had to wonder ... what if his brother didn't need him anymore?

_**. . . . .**_

Green eyes flew open with a start as Loki began to fall. He drew in a panicked breath and reached out for the rock to steady himself, but he was not in the gardens of Asgard. He was still on the mysterious path that had taken him away from Jotunheim, but now he was falling toward something, someplace, that was looming fast and giant under him.

Closing his eyes to the chaos around him, he first took control of his body, straightening it and crossing his arms over his bruised chest until he was falling straight and true instead of in a flailing ball of limbs. He could control his descent and he would, for he was not stripped powerless and flung out of Asgard. No. He, Loki, had chosen this path, had chosen to control his own life, and it would start now.

_(end part two)_


	3. Chapter 3  Mischief Managed

_Author's note: _I suppose I'm exploring where Loki's alienation came from, and where it might lead him. This is a little more flashback-heavy than I think I might have realized when I wrote that first chapter, but then I didn't have a clear roadmap at the time. I hope you're enjoying the read - please review! I'd appreciate the feedback!

As always, I do not own the rights to these charaters; I'm just playing in Marvel's realm.

**Know Your Place, part 3: Mischief Managed**

The realm beneath him was approaching fast. Loki did not recognize it, even from so high above; all he could see was dust and desert stretching out to the horizon, odd-shaped rocks and hills providing the only breaks in an otherwise desolate, flat scene. It was not a place he could ever consider beautiful. No matter. It was not Asgard, and it was not Jotunheim. At this moment any other place was a welcome haven.

The Asgardian prince reached out once more with his will to tame the path he rode, to slow his descent to the hard earth below. Nothing happened. Swallowing, Loki concentrated harder, pushing himself away from the ever-nearing landscape so he could land with his customary grace. Dizziness swept over him and his vision narrowed, blackness dancing on the periphery of his sight. He was exhausted, and apparently even his mind had its limits.

"No. No no NO!" he cried out in anger. His sudden fury burned like fire, and he grabbed on to that weapon with ferocity born of desperation. His focus sharpened and he pushed away violently, and now at last his descent began to slow. Thus instead of hitting the ground with enough force to break bones, Loki landed in a crumpled heap on red dirt and rocks, under a glaring, unforgiving sun.

Pain coursed through him and his mind reeled in exhaustion, threatening to fall right then and there into needed unconsciousness. For the first time he felt he truly understood why his father succumbed to the Odinsleep; Loki needed that sort of healing, refreshing rest. But he could not give in, not yet, even if it were possible for him to achieve such a state. What good would it do him to lose consiousness here, unprotected in the wilderness under that glaring sun?

Forcing himself to lift his head and open his eyes once more, Loki looked around for some sort of shelter. There, in the face of one of those odd formations of rock, was the shadow of an opening. A cave, perhaps, or maybe just a nook. No matter what it was, it was dark and promised a fraction of protection. He staggered up to his feet, an act that nearly pushed him to fainting, and made his unsteady way to that tempting haven.

It was further than he had thought. When Loki finally reached the narrow crevice in the rock - too shallow and narrow to be a cave, but still enough to offer shelter - he collapsed into its shadows and knew no more.

**. . . . .**

"Where's Thor?" Sif demanded. She stood in the middle of the clearing clad in Loki's purloined clothes, her golden hair swept back in a braid.

The prince smiled and walked forward, alone with her for the first time since he had caught her and his brother together a week before. He had watched them practice daily ever since, at first merely because he always followed his brother. He quickly began to look forward to the lessons, however, even though they stole his brother's attention from him. That was because Sif was beautiful. Loki had never particularly cared about girls before, but this one was fascinating. She gleamed like molten gold, especially when she was in a temper, and she moved with such lethal grace that it was nearly impossible not to want to watch her.

"Our teacher held him back," Loki explained, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. "I'm afraid he completely failed a test, and so he has to learn it all again. He sends his apologies, or at least he would have if he could have spoken freely in front of our teacher, because he won't be able to meet you today."

Sif scowled and started to turn away, and Loki took a hopeful step forward. "I could take his place."

"How could you ever do that?" she asked flatly, turning her blue eyes back to him. "You're nothing like your brother."

"I am too," he said quickly. "Yes, he's better than me at fighting, but that's just because he's had more time to practice. I'll be as good as he is one day. And it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to fight someone else anyway. Not everyone uses the same run-at-you-head-on style that Thor does. Come on, it'll be good for you."

Sif looked at him skeptically, then shrugged. "Fine. But don't start crying if I hurt you." She dropped her cloak, unsheathed her sword, and stepped to the center of the clearing.

Loki could feel the heat in his cheeks from her insult, but he clenched his teeth and walked forward. He had already figured out that the only way to get her to like him was to win her respect, and this was the only way he could think to do it. The problem was that he did not know enough about her other than she liked to fight. Where was she from? What else did she like to do? If he knew that, maybe he could get her to see him as more than Thor's little brother hanging about in the large shadow he cast.

As he faced her, he had to admit to certain qualms. He did not particularly like swordplay. He much preferred to strike from a distance, and his armsmaster had begun teaching him how to throw daggers. But he couldn't face Sif using such weapons, so he'd brought his second favorite weapon, the spear. It was a practice blade like hers, heavy and with blunted edges that bruised but did not cut. When she ran straight at him, sword upraised, he dodged, then parried and dodged again, not standing still long enough for her blade to come near him. He could see the surprise in her eyes and he grinned.

The smile didn't last long. Soon enough she began to anticipate his moves, and more than once he nearly ran right into her blade. He shifted his tactics and won a reprieve, but soon enough she was used to his new pattern and he barely parried a vicious blow to his head, his arms stinging from the force of her sword against his spear. Again he shifted tactics, and soon after that her sword hammered into his chest and sent him flying.

Loki lay on his back, gasping for air as little pinpoints of light danced in his vision. He did not even hear her approach until Sif stood over him, the dull point of her sword resting heavy on his throat. "You're dead, and I'm done," she said, then turned away.

"Wait," he gasped, struggling to regain his breath as he sat up. "That was good. Let's go again."

"No," she said simply, shrugging her cloak back on.

"Why not?" he asked, confused. "You got through my defense. I want to try again."

Sif looked at him as she sheathed her blade. "You're too small, and you're weak. If you managed to touch me I probably wouldn't even notice. Even worse, you fight like you're scared of getting hurt. Stand and fight, or don't bother. You're useless to me. I'm going home."

His mouth dropped open, but for once no words came out. He wanted furiously to defend himself, but the words stuck, pinned uselesly inside by her contempt. Somehow that seemed to make her think even less of him, because she shook her head and walked away, but not fast enough that he didn't hear her next words. "How could such a small, dark thing be his brother?"

Loki sat for a moment in the middle of the clearing, stunned, his face glowing red with embarrassment. Then his green eyes narrowed, and his still-open mouth closed into a snarl. _Weak? Useless? I'll show her._ He slipped to his feet and followed her, abandoning his spear in the clearing behind him.

_Just because I won't stand still and let you hack at me doesn't make you better than me!_ They were words he should have said in the clearing, but he cast them at her now silently, following in her footsteps through the woods, then through the gardens. _You don't even know I'm here. If I was an enemy I could kill you before you even knew what happened!_

Not that such a strike would ever win him glory in Asgard. That's what gave her words an even harsher sting. Unless he fought like her, like Thor, he never would be accepted, would he? But it seemed so stupid just to stand in front of someone trading blows. Why was quickness and agility not just as much of a weapon as brute strength? Loki did not understand it. Why should a warrior not use all the strengths at his disposal? Why were some acceptable and not others?

He followed her for a long time, and not once did she notice him behind her. True, no one else did either, to the point where he had to dodge out of the way of several adults who would have otherwise walked right into him. As focused on her as he was, he did not think of why they were acting so oddly. When she went around the side of a house he followed, and watched around the corner as she scaled the outer wall to a balcony on the second floor. Her balcony, he guessed. She would have to sneak in and out if her parents did not want her fighting.

It was growing dark now, but Loki waited patiently outside. He was hungry - he had missed dinner, waiting here, trying to decide exactly what he was going to do. He still had not made up his mind sometime later when he began to scale the wall, using the same toeholds that Sif had carved to make a path to her room. If someone noticed him now he would be in more trouble than he had ever been in before, but somehow he knew no one would see him.

Sif was asleep in bed when he slipped through the balcony door, her hair still in its messy practice braid. He looked down on her a moment, then smiled coldly. She thought he was ugly, did she? He could fix that. He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a knife - not a practice blade, this one, but a sharp little throwing knife Loki had purloined during one of his lessons. Moving silently and oh so carefully, he leaned over the side of her bed and lowered the blade with caution.

If he had looked up just then to see the reflection in the mirror, all Loki would have seen was the sleeping teenage girl and a braid that was slowly and gently being cut from her head by invisible hands.

It was over quickly, and Sif had no more than murmured softly at one point. Loki stood, his heart hammering, the thick golden braid in his hands. He suddenly felt like laughing, but that would give him away, and the she would try to kill him. It was time for a strategic retreat; he secured his knife away and flew on silent feet to the balcony. Draping his trophy around his neck, he made his way to the ground and then ran as fast as he could for home, laughing all the way. He would go to bed hungry, but his new trophy was worth it. He tucked it reverently in a box and slid it under his bed before falling into a very satisfied sleep.

_(end part three)_


	4. Chapter 4  Crime and Punishment

_Author's Note:_ From my very first viewing of the movie I was quite curious as to why Sif was so immediately hostile toward and suspicious of Loki. A little poking around online gave me one reason. I hope you're enjoying my version of events, and I'd love to here from you. :)

As always, I don't own Loki, Thor, Sif, or the others. I'm merely playing in Marvel's realm. The story, however, is mine.

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part four: Crime and Punishment**

"Brother!"

Loki managed not to flinch as Thor's angry voice boomed down the hallway near the audience chamber. Squaring his shoulders, he turned and faced at his brother with an inquisitive, innocent expression. "Yes?"

A moment later he was on the ground, tackled and pinned.

"What did you do?" Thor demanded, his blue eyes flashing as he planted his hands on Loki's chest and shoved him down.

"I don't know what you mean- ow!" One of those shoves rapped his head against the floor. "Get off me!"

"Not until you admit what you did!" his brother said fiercely. "Why did you do it?"

"I really don't know- ow, stop it!" Thor punched his shoulder, and it hurt! "I didn't do anything!"

"Stop. Lying." Both words were accompanied by punches. When Loki tried to deny it once more he got hit again, and again, until he was sure he was losing feeling in his right arm.

"Okay, okay, all right, I confess," he choked out, his eyes closed. "It was just a joke."

"A joke?" his brother thundered. "You cut off her hair! Why?"

"It was ... funny?" There was no way he would ever admit to his brother the real reasons behind what he did, even though his answer earned him another blow.

"Funny? It isn't funny, Loki. You are going to fix this, and you are going to apologize to her. Do you understand me?"

"Fix it? How am I supposed to-" Thor shoved him back into the floor and he gasped out, "okay, yes, I'll fix it, I promise."

"Good." Thor rose, his eyes still angry as he stared down at his brother. "Then do it."

Loki remained down, resting his head on the cool floor until he could no longer hear Thor's footsteps. Only then did he sit up, thankful that the audience hall had been empty, that there had been no one to witness that little humiliation.

But was he alone? Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. When he looked over he saw a small, hunched man barely visible at the hall corner - a Duergar, without question. If his twisted body didn't give him away, the wild black hair and beard would have proclaimed his identity. Loki scowled and jumped to his feet, and the small man held up his hands placatingly.

"Apologies, young master, I did not mean to overhear, young master," the Duergar said, bowing his hairy head even lower than it already was.

Loki straightened his rumpled clothes angrily, keeping his green eyes on the creature. "You're part of the delegation, yes?" he asked, stalling as he searched for some excuse to explain away what had just occurred.

"Indeed. And you are the young prince," he said with another bow of his head. "A tricky situation you're in, young master."

"Indeed," Loki mimicked, unable to hide his ill-temper. "And it is no concern of yours."

"Of course, of course," the Duergar demured, once more holding his hands up soothingly. "The young prince is the son of a wise king. He will know how to meet the other prince's demands."

"I..." He paused, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Do you know how to do it?"

The small man smiled. "We are masters of many crafts, young master. I do, in fact, know the solution to such a problem. You would be surprised to learn how many members of the other races, races less blessed than the citizens of Asgard, value a full head of hair."

Loki could not quite credit what he was hearing. "And you would ... what? Give me this miracle solution out of the goodness of your heart?" That did not square with what his father had told him.

The dwarf chuckled. "Give? No. But you are a prince. Certainly you have something of value to trade."

He pursed his lips and considered. The promised solution seemed unlikely, but would the creature really try to cheat a prince of Asgard? It would not be wise, at least for the future, and nothing Odin had told him about the Duergar made him think that they would make such a mistake. But they did like their tricks, so it was best to be certain. "What _exactly_ is this device, and what does it do?"

The little man's smile widened. "It looks like a golden net, but once you place it on a person's head their hair grows and grows until they tell it to stop. But once it is on, it cannot be removed."

"And no harm comes to its wearer? No ill effect of any kind?"

"No harm, I can swear. It would be very bad for business, yes?" The Duergar's dark eyes glittered. "Is the young master interested?"

All Loki could do was nod, even though he did not know how he would pay for such a thing. He would have to find something, since Thor would probably beat him again if he broke his promise. "And what would you have in return?"

"Oh, perhaps a favor from the young master, to be traded in later?"

He shook his head no; that was much too dangerous a proposition. "I doubt we will see each other again, and I would like the ledger clear. How about..." he thought quickly, "how about a sun diamond?"

The Duergar raised an eyebrow. "That would suffice, Prince of Asgard."

Loki nodded. "Then meet me here again in an hour and we will complete the trade."

The small man bowed again, and Loki walked away toward his room. He turned before he reached it, though, instead taking a hallway that lead to an empty suite of ambassadorial quarters. There was a swirling work of art on the wall outside those quarters, a representation of the nine realms - each represented by a different gemstone. The prince looked around, listening intently, and once he knew he was alone he took out the little knife he'd used to cut Sif's hair and pried the sun diamond out of its spot. Pocketing it quickly, he continued on to his room.

An hour later he was back in the hallway outside the audience chamber, the little black-bearded man once more standing before him.

"Here you are, young master," the Duergar said, holding out a silk-wrapped object. He lifted a corner of the cloth carefully to show Loki the fine golden net inside. "Be certain not to touch it. Only the person who will don it should touch it, for the hair will grow to that person's color. You understand, yes?"

Loki's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes, I understand."

He reached into his pocket and produced the small, brilliant stone, then held it out. The little man smiled, rewrapped the net, and extended it to him. The trade done, the dwarf bowed and backed down the hall, out of Loki's sight.

He stared down at the silk-wrapped object. "This had better work," he muttered, then turned and headed for his brother's room.

**. . . . .**

A black Honda drove through the desert, kicking up dust in its wake. Inside it were two black-suited men wearing identical black sunglasses. One kept his eyes on the road, while the other swept the surroundings with a pair of binoculars.

"Are you sure this is where Coulson wants us?" the one with the binoculars asked, not for the first time.

"The coordinates are right ahead. Something fell near here, the Foster girl confirmed it."

The first one sighed. "You think with all the satellites we have..."

"Nothing showed up," the driver said with a hint of impatience. "That's why the grid search. Get used to it. We'll have a nice little walk in the desert, then someone else will find something and win all the glory. You know how it is. Anyway, nothing's a lot better than another of those big metal men."

"True," the other agreed with a philosophical shrug.

The car slowed to a stop, and soon enough the two were standing on hard-packed red dirt. The driver looked at their environs, then nodded. "Walk the corners, then the interior. Let's go."

The two black-suited men started toward a rock formation in the distance, the slowly setting sun hot on their backs.

_(end part four)_


	5. Chapter 5  Left or Right?

_Author's note:_ We're coming to the end of the first flashback - I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear from you! As always, I don't own these characters, I'm just obsessed with Tom Hiddleston's Loki and am only borrowing Marvel's universe. The story itself is mine.

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part five: Left or Right?**

Loki walked toward the clearing, his brother looming behind him as if to make sure he would not run away. He rolled his eyes but smiled. "You do not need to escort me. I promised to fix this, didn't I?"

Thor snorted. "And who is to say she won't try to kill you as soon as she sees you? You'll want me here, brother, to keep you in one piece instead of many."

"Perhaps you're right," Loki mused as they walked into the clearing to find Sif pacing its confines. She was dressed as a girl today in a long golden dress, but the warrior within blazed angrily in her blue eyes - blue eyes framed by the white scarf hiding her shorn locks. As soon as she saw him she started forward, her hands curling into fists.

"My lady Sif," he said quickly, before she could reach him, "I come to atone for my actions."

"And how will you do that?" she demanded. "Did you bring me a wig? It is not good enough, Loki. Why did you do this?"

"I was ... angry with you," he answered, knowing better than to tell her it was a joke. He did want to live, after all. But the next words he could not help. "You weren't very nice to me."

Sif let out a wordless cry of rage and lunged at the smaller boy. Thor grunted his impatience and yanked his brother back by his collar, out of her reach once more. "Loki, behave. Sif, calm down. He promised to fix it and he will. Won't you, brother?"

Loki held up his hands placatingly, unconsciously echoing the dwarf's gestures of the day before. "Forgive me. I'll fix it. It wasn't easy, but I can do it. Here."

He reached into a pocket and withdrew the small bundle of silk, then peeled back the cloth to reveal the glittering gold net within. "See? It's Duergar work. Once you put it on, your hair will grow until you tell it to stop. But you can't take it off ever again. Your choice. You can wait for your hair to grow back, or I will give this to you."

Sif and Thor stared at the delicate work, the sunlight dancing across its slender filaments. Both looked confused and spoke at the same time.

"Where did you get this, brother?"

"Is this a trick?"

Loki smiled. "I obtained it from one of the Duergar ambassadors. I give it to you in payment of my debt. He assured me that it will do what you want, and I believe him."

Sif looked at Thor, who shrugged. "It would be folly for one of those creatures to play a prank on a prince of Asgard. It would not bode well for their negotiations with our father."

After a long moment of hesitation, Sif nodded and held out her hand. Loki looked down at the net. He hesitated only a moment before taking the golden strands in his nimble fingers and placing the net in her palm. A smile lit his eyes as she raised it to her head.

Thor gasped as tresses of long hair began spilling down Sif's head and onto her shoulders, but it was not the magic that shocked him. She did not understand until a raven lock fell into her eyes. By then it was much too late, and Loki could only do his best not to laugh as she screeched in dismay.

**. . . . .**

A hawk screamed overhead, waking Loki abruptly. For a long moment he could still hear Sif's enraged cries as her golden hair turned black, a perfect match to his. Although his body ached, a smile came to his face. From that day forth, at least, he had not been the sole black-haired Asgardian. A small comfort, perhaps, but it had been a comfort nonetheless, even if it had earned him her perpetual distrust.

Loki slowly sat up, his shoulders brushing the rough rock of the crevice's narrow walls. He was famished and very sore, though at least his little nap had taken the edge off his exhaustion. _Not that I'm anywhere near top shape. If Thor found me now..._

But of course Thor would not find him, or at least he could not come to him. Heimdall, he supposed, might know where he had found shelter - _and if so, he knows more than I_ - but with the Bifrost destroyed he was safe. It was Loki who knew of the hidden paths, not his brother, not even his wise, all-seeing father. No, they would not follow him. Still, he did not particularly want Heimdall spying on him. Loki closed his eyes and concentrated, until he felt a chill run from his head to his toes. It would take only a fraction of his energy to maintain the spell; it was worth it to insure his privacy.

Questions remained, however. He opened his eyes and looked around at his confining surroundings. Where was he? He needed to determine that first, before he could plan his next move. He also needed shelter and sustenance, items he had never needed to consider before. His chambers at Asgard, complete with servants and wardrobe and endless feasting, had always been part of his life. It was very strange to think that he had them no longer.

_You have nothing._ Loki's breath caught in his throat as a wave of almost physical pain knifed through him, and he closed his eyes against it, running his hands into his hair and gripping the black strands tightly. He would not be victim to these maudlin emotions! They may have rejected him, but it was a gift, not a curse. He would finally be able to be himself.

"Did you see the sun catch off something in there?"

Gree eyes flew open. Two figures stood silhouetted against the setting sun, only a few feet away from the entry of his dark hiding place.

Two crystalline knifes flew, quick flashes of green splitting the air. One passed through the neck of the first black-suited man and out into the dry air before disolving into nothingness. The second embeded itself into the other man's gut. The man screamed (the other had never even had the chance) and fell to his knees, hands gripping futilely at a knife that somehow slipped through his fingers.

Loki stared for a moment, shocked at his quick reaction, but then moved forward.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, rising gracefully to his feet. He towered over the wounded man, but he looked down with green eyes full of sympathy. "You frightened me. But you still have a chance."

Reaching down, he traced the line of the man's jaw with one long finger, prompting him to meet his gaze. "I can still save you ... _if_ you tell me who sent you. My brother?" His voice rose in pitch. "My father?"

The man started shaking, the pupils of his eys widening in shock and fear. "I don't ... don't know what you mean."

"My _father_!" Loki spat. "If anyone could find me, it would be him."

"I don't ... know... I ... S.H.I.E.L.D. I work ... S.H.I.E.L.D." The man's hands fumbled at his wounded midsection for the knife he could never grip, blood now coating his fingers. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes.

"You shield?" he asked uncertainly, a faint frown turning the corners of his mouth. "Shield what?"

"Agent ... federal agent. Please, help me," the man begged.

The fallen prince of Asgard looked down at him with green eyes that were suddenly emotionless, then raised his hand and twisted it. The crystalline knife spun in the man, eliciting a scream and a splash of blood that Loki sidestepped. The agent fell lifeless next to his partner, the knife fading from existence.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Loki repeated softly, looking down at the two dead men in their identical suits. He remembered now. The silly little base where he had talked to Thor - men just like these were in charge. And when he had sent the Destroyer to Midgard and looked through its eyes, it first encountered other men in black suits. Black suits and odd black chariots...

Loki looked out at the darkening land and saw a splash of light on metal in the distance, betraying its presence just as the sun glinting off his armor had ensured these men's fates.

"I'm on Midgard," he whispered, then repeated the realm's name before starting to laugh. It was too ironic, a great cosmic joke. His eyes watered, but not in sorrow; he wiped at them with the back of his hands as the laughter spilled out of him, a hysterical edge echoing off the rock face behind him.

Finally, gasping, he regained his composure. He could not stay here, not with these men. Their masters would look for them, and then look for the person who had killed them. Unfortunate that they surprised him, really; they would have been more use to him alive. It was clear evidence that he was not at the top of his game. Acting on instinct - that was Thor's modus operandi, not his.

Loki turned toward the vehicle in the distance, then paused and looked back down at the men. Kneeling swiftly, he searched the man who had taken a knife to the neck (the second man was simply too bloody at the midsection, and he did not want to dirty his hands with it). He slipped a leather wallet from the man's pocket, along with the keys he found there. There was also some sort of weapon, black and heavy and alien in his hand. Loki left it behind; his knives were infinitely more practical than the Midgard weapon.

Rising, he looked through the wallet as he walked, studying the agent's ID and the various other cards, the strange slips of numbered green paper. He was not sure what most of the cards were, but the paper was easy enough to identify.

_"This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private."_

Money, then. That might be useful. So was the ID. He could recreate both with ease.

When he reached the vehicle he studied it closely before finally trying to open the door. Nothing happened, and he frowned. Noting a slot for a key, he studied the ring he had taken from the man and found one with an insignia identical to the one on the front of the car. It had buttons with little symbols, symbols simple enough for a child to figure out. He pushed one and heard a beep and the click of a lock.

The interior of the metal carriage was sleak but hot, baked by the desert sun. Loki studied everything closely, determined to understand its workings, and found a small book in a stashed in a unhidden compartment.

"Owner's Manual," he read aloud, then smiled slowly. Soon enough the black Honda drove forward into the desert.

_(end part five)_


	6. Chapter 6 Credit Where Credit is Due

_Author's note:_ I kind of love the image of Loki driving. I don't know why. I just have this perfect mental image of him, still in his nice green and gold outfit, driving down the road with the AC blasting and classical music playing loud. Maybe opera, _Marriage of Figaro_, perhaps. :) And of course that wonderful smirk on his lips.

I got two reviews that I can't respond to in messages, so I will here. **korilian**, thanks! I figure Loki's a little smarter than his brother, and really automatic cars are so freaking easy to drive :) **lapin d'Alice**, yes, this is definitely set before the _Avengers._

As always, I don't own the rights to these characters. I'm just trying to work out my Loki obsession!

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part six: Credit Where Credit's Due**

Mastering the Midgard vehicle was one of the easier skills Loki had learned recently. It practically drove itself once he got it started and he had plenty of room to practice; all he had to do was keep it on the dirt road and and press the pedal to make it go forward. Cool air blew from its vents, and a screen with a map told him exactly where he was. He had to admit, it was a lot nicer than riding a horse. Perhaps Midgard was not quite the hopeless backwater it had seemed during his short visit.

There was a problem, however, in that he did not know where he was going. The moving map showed a small settlement nearby; he could head for it. It seemed to be the only outpost of civilization in this dusty plain. Perhaps it was for the best; he could take on the guise of a mortal and decide his next steps once he had adequate information.

Loki smiled as he reached out and tapped the controls to make the interior even colder. His black hair ruffling in the false breeze, he focused his green gaze on the darkening horizon and drove toward the small cluster of lights in the distance.

**. . . . .**

It was not Loki's first trip through the Bifrost, but it was his first as a member of a war party. His black horse Asgeirr danced in excitement, unused to being in a crowd of dozens of other horses, all armored and ready for battle.

"Hush," he murmured, stroking Asgeirr's black mane soothingly. "We'll be on our way soon."

"Let him be, little brother," Thor called cheerfully as he rode to Loki's side. "It's good to have some spirit going into battle! It's his first, isn't it? Just like you!"

Loki jerked his head back, and his brother's outstretched hand landed on his shoulder instead of his head - Thor had recently developed the annoying habit of ruffling his hair, as if the few years separating them meant one of them was an adult and the other still a child. Why father thought Thor was ready to lead anyone into combat was far beyond Loki's understanding. "You know I've been in battles before."

"Not in one where anyone seriously tried to kill you," his brother replied with ghastly good cheer. "Bouts and tourneys don't count, but today you'll become a real warrior! Be ready!"

Gracing him with one of his famous sunny grins, Thor then took his place at the head of the party. Wheeling his horse about, he stood in the stirrups and thrust his fist in the air. "Asgardians, we ride for Alfheim! Forward!"

Then they were thundering down the bridge and into the already open Bifrost. Loki felt the bridge grab him and yank him forward like a puppet on a string, and then he was hurtling toward the realm of the light elves in front of thirty armed warriors.

Asgeirr landed on a velvet-green hill at a gallop and shot forward, even as Loki drew a deep breath in shock at the abrupt relocation. The air was balmy on his skin, the sun golden and yet not too bright, the breeze floral without making him sneeze - in other words, typical Alfheim, where elf-tended flowers bloomed and nectar-fed birds sang and everything was so astoundingly perfect that Loki wondered if anyone ever went mad from it all.

Today, of course, there was something different in the usually perfect skies of Alfheim. Even though he had known what they were coming to face, he could not help but pull Asgeirr up short when he saw it.

A giant serpent reared over once-perfect hills, crushing more than just wildflowers under its stony red scales. It coiled in the midst of a formerly pristine elven village, but now its walls were in crumbles, its trees splintered, its fountains broken and bleeding. Just judging from the remains of the buildings the serpent reared twenty feet high, and of course it was much longer than that. And then there were the claws, and the fangs, and the mouth big enough to swallow a horse.

Loki's green eyes flew wide, his already pale face growing paler as he wondered why, precisely, he had insisted on accompanying his brother on his first command. It suddenly seemed like the stupidest choice he had ever made in his too-short life.

But the horses of the other warriors were galloping around him now. It did not take much urging for Asgeirr to catch up with them and even surpass them, until he rode only a horselength behind Thor - who, of course, was yelling his fool head off in challenge, brandishing his axe over his head. Summoning all his nerve, Loki raised his spear and galloped after him.

The monster was soon roaring and thrashing as it fended off the Asgardian attacks, sending men and horses flying with is flailing tail. Thor was in the thick of it, hacking enthusiastically and laughing. Loki swallowed and pushed his fear away - he had come here to prove himself a warrior like his brother, after all - and darted in and out to jab at it. His first few strikes were deflected, the point skittering across hard scales without even scratching them. But those first failures were enlightening, and soon he knew what to do. The next time he urged Asgeirr to run alongside the serpents long body instead of at it, and drove the spear into the junction of two scales, sinking the blade deep.

The creature bellowed and writhed, and before Loki knew it he was torn from the saddle, yanked into the air by the spear he was still gripping with all his strength. He was wrenched back and forth, his shoulders and arms straining to maintain his hold, for if he fell there was a very good chance he would be crushed. And then a shadow blocked out the sun, and he looked up to see the serpent's huge head plunging toward him, its open maw filled with teeth as long as he was tall.

Before he even had time to react something hit him hard and he was flying through the air in a tangle of limbs. Teeth snapped a foot over Loki's head, and then he hit the ground hard, half crushed under the warrior who had tackled him off the monster's back. He barely got a glimpse of bushy red hair and a big grin before the shadow of the serpent's head blocked out the sky again and a roar of rage shook the ground where he lay.

"Strike at downed men, will you?" Loki did not know where this second warrior came from, but the blond man was suddenly between the serpent and him, a shining sword in his hand. "Truly you are a cowardly beast!"

The man's sword became a silver blur, striking at the creature several times before it could even react. The blond was laughing, reminding Loki so much of his brother that he had to wonder where Thor was. As if his thoughts were a summoning spell, the prince was there. The newcomer struck at the serpents jaw, distracting it as Thor boldly leapt onto its snout and ran forward. With a roar of triumph, he buried his axe deep into the creature's eye.

It bellowed out in pain, thrashed once, and then fell heavily at Loki's feet with the force of a minor earthquake.

Loki stared at the mutilated head mere feet away, his eyes wide and his breathing quick, or at least as fast as it could be with the weight of the huge warrior still on him. The red-head bellowed a laugh and rose, catching Loki's arm and pulling him to his feet without even asking for permission first, so fast that he overbalanced and had to struggle to keep upright.

"There you are, young man! Any wounds? Anything broken?" the warrior boomed good-naturedly.

Any answer he might have given was lost as Thor jumped down to the ground, bloody axe resting on his shoulder, a grin on his golden face. He clapped the other blond on the shoulder, then did the same to the red-head. "Nobly done, nobly done indeed! Let me know your names, my friends!"

The handsome blond swept his hair back and smiled charmingly. "Fandral, my prince."

The giant with the red hair ducked his head in something akin to a bow. "Volstagg, my lord."

"You will feast with me tonight, and we will trade tales of valor!" Thor's shining blue eyes finally found his brother. "And you, Loki! How did you enjoy your first real battle?"

Loki opened his mouth, but he stopped himself before he said something stupid. Thankfully Volstagg's booming voice covered his unusual lapse of vocabulary. "The young prince did well indeed!"

"Almost became a snack for the beast, but then he wouldn't be the first," Fandral added with a laugh.

"Father would never have forgiven me," Thor said, joining in the laughter. "Come! Back to Asgard!"

The golden prince turned, whistling for his horse, and was followed by Fandral and Volstagg. Loki remained where he was, his face expressionless as he watched the laughing trio walk away. Did they not realize it was his strike that had brought the creature close enough for Thor to deal the death blow? That it was his near sacrafice that had all but ended the battle?

Loki's green gaze travelled back to the beast's hulking skull and he barely repressed a shudder. The next time he encountered anything so fearful he would be better prepared. Still, perhaps it was better not to encounter them at all? There had to be better ways of dealing with such creatures than trying to stick sharp metal in them.

Shaking his head, he went to look for his spear but found it shattered; the great serpent in its death throes had rolled onto it. If that was not a sign, Loki didn't know what else it could be. Summoning Asgeirr to him, he was soon gratefully on his way home.

There was a grand feast awaiting them, of course, presided over by Odin and Frigga in honor of their elder son's triumph. Normally Loki sat at his brother's side, but somehow tonight he found himself a few seats down, transplanted by Fandral and Volstagg. He did not know the warrior to his right, and soon became irritated by the boisterous gluttony of the man on his left. The red-head was unforgivably familliar, thumping Loki on the back at the punchline of every bad joke he told and spilling mead on him as he guffawed at the jokes of others.

Finally he could not bear any more of it. When one of the feasting warriors proposed yet another toast to his brother and was joined by the roars of the others, Loki slipped off the bench and headed quickly for the exit. He brushed futilely at his ale-stained, battle-filthy robes, a grimace of disgust on his face; all he wanted to do was bathe and find some peace and quiet.

"Loki, are you all right?" Frigga's voice filled the hall, warm and concerned. He turned to see her walking toward him from the door he had fled through.

"I am... fine, mother, just tired," he answered, doing his best to keep the bitterness out of his words.

"I have not had a chance to ask how you fared," she said, walking up and gently taking his hands in hers as she examined him as only a mother could, searching for wounds and any other hurts. "Your first battle."

He hesitated, uncertain what to tell her. Would her warmth cool if he confessed that he had not enjoyed the fight? That the most favored pasttimes of the Asgardians - warfare and all the skills that one practiced to excel at it - had lost their allure?

"It went well," he finally answered, looking up to meet her loving gaze.

She smiled and raised a hand to caress his cheek. "Good. You will come and tell me all about it tomorrow, yes?"

He nodded and she smiled at him lovingly, the leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Good night." Then she was gone, back to the feast, and he could hear the roar of another toast to the prince of Asgard.

Loki was tired, but he did not go to bed. He stopped by his chambers long enough to bathe and change, then went to the royal library. It was late, and none of the staff were on duty, but that did not present a challenge, not to him. It took only a little time to find a book that described the serpent they had faced - where it had come from, what its habits were, and (perhaps most importantly) what its weaknesses were. The eyes were an obvious weakness, as was noted in the book. But what he read next made his eyes widen in disbelief.

The serpent was terrified of magical fire. Not real fire, but fire summoned by a master of magic, which could eat through the creature's scales like acid. If confronted by even a hint of the substance, it would turn and flee.

_If only I could do that_, Loki thought wistfully. _What would it take?_

Finding a book on magic took him longer than the book on monsters. It was not a surprise - magic was not a talent pursued in Asgard, unlike hacking up rampaging creatures. Finally he located a small section on a high, neglected shelf near the back that held promise. He gathered all of the books and brought them to a table near the window.

He quickly lost track of time after that, flipping through page after fascinating page, not even noticing as dawn's golden light began to spill into the room. No, he had found the page he had been searching for, and as his green eyes traveled the page he unconsciously began mouthing the words of the transcribed incantation.

Wicked green fire blossomed in the palm of his hand that rested on the table, scorching the glossy wood and sending up an acrid plume of smoke. Loki yelped and jumped to his feet, shaking his hand frantically. The flames fell to the floor, where he stomped on them before the rug caught. Chest heaving, he looked closely at the damage he'd done - a hole the size of an apple burned in the carpet, black scorchmarks on the formerly pristine, polished table. Then he lifted his hand and stared.

There was no damage. His hand was pale and unblemished; there was not even a hint of harm. Loki gaped for a moment, then looked back at the book, which had thankfully escaped damage. A slow smile spread across his lips, and then he took all of the books and fled to the shelter of his room. He would learn more. He would learn it all, and then no one would ignore him again.

_(end part 6)_


	7. Chapter 7 Move Along

_Author's note:_ Hope this isn't too boring. The flashbacks are so eventful that I'm a bit nervous about this chapter - I'm now finding the past events much easier to write, a reversal from earlier. Well, more flashbacks coming up if this doesn't work for you! As always, _Thor_ and its characters and settings belong to Marvel. I'm only playing in their universe.

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part seven: Move Along**

As he approached the town marked on the map, Loki started noting changes in his surroundings. He had turned from the rocky dirt road onto one paved with smooth gray stone, wide enough for two of the Midgard vehicles to travel on. Then signs began appearing, and he quickly decided he was not driving correctly. He could read the signs on the other side of the road, while he was seeing what was obviously the backs of the signs to his left. Another vehicle approaching in the distance convinced him his guess was right, and he swerved into the right lane before the other one could panic.

Soon enough he saw a small sign that he guessed gave name to the city - no, town, or perhaps settlement? It seemed like there should be more of it, somehow - he was approaching. Puente Antiguo, population ... Loki arched an eyebrow at the number. He was rather certain that more people lived in his father's palace than did in this tiny place. Staying here was likely not wise.

He slowed down, realizing that there were probably rules that governed driving this vehicle that he did not know. Perhaps it would be best to leave it on the outskirts and explore on foot what the place had to offer. Hopefully there would be a place that offered food in exchange for those green pieces of paper.

Stopping in a paved square where other vehicles sat unattended, Loki turned the engine off. The air shimmered around him, and then he was no longer wearing his clothing of green and brown or the shining metal armor. Replacing them was a white shirt of Midgard style, dark slacks, a long black coat, and a checkered scarf - the same outfit he had created when he visited his brother what seemed like an eternity ago.

_Only a few days ago_, his all-too active brain reminded him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He had thought he was insuring Thor's continued banishment, but had he really? Or had delivering that harsh message been the blow that had put his brother onto the path toward reclaming their father's love?

With a disgusted sigh Loki left the car and walked up the side of the road, looking at the little shops offering their dingy, pedestrian wares. Nothing here to tempt him, that was certain. And the people, the few people on the street, were so different from what he was used to. Soft, even flabby, and not a weapon in sight. Several of them were talking animatedly to no one, or at least no one Loki could see. It was disconcerting. He walked further up the street and it was more of the same, until he came to an intersection. One look to the left changed everything.

The buildings he had passed had been dusty and dull but whole and populated. The buldings down this new street were boarded up, burned out, even missing roofs or entire upper floors. He recognized it immediately as the street where the Destroyer had confronted Sif and the Warriors Three ... where he had almost killed his brother.

Loki froze in place, staring with wide green eyes at the stark remnants of the destruction he had caused. Why was in not repaired? Certainly it was not behind these people's capabilities to rebuild. But if this was the same town - and of course that made sense, did it not? Why else would S.H.I.E.L.D. be here? - then that meant _she_ was here.

"Ugly sight, isn't it?"

Loki blinked and swiftly turned, but the man who had interrupted his thoughts was obviously no threat. Gray, receding hair framed a once handsome but aged face; his body was a little heavy, and probably was never the physique of a warrior. His blue eyes were troubled as they surveyed the damage, but then the man shrugged. "Still, they'll fix it in time. Are you with FEMA?"

"Ah, no," he answered softly. The man was familiar, somehow. "Just passing through. What happened here?"

The man sighed. "It's a long story, too long to tell in this cold weather. Can I help you find anything?"

"Just a place to eat," Loki said, forcing a pleasant smile. Was it cold? He had not noticed.

"Well, I would have recommended the diner," he said, waving at a blackened, boarded-up building, "but there's a Mexican place just down the road there. That orange building, see it?"

Green eyes followed the man's gesture, and Loki nodded. "It'll do you well enough. Just watch out for the salsa; it'll set your mouth alight." The man smiled; the expression seemed natural to him.

"Ah. Thank you for the warning."

The man nodded and continued on, walking into an odd round building with a glowing star on its top. It too seemed familiar, but it must just be vague impressions from the Destroyer. None of that mattered now - he needed food, and a lot of it.

An hour later he was walking back, his stomach full-to-bursting on the highly exotic food he had consumed - Loki had eaten so much that eventually the servers had stood near the kitchen door and stared at him as he emptied yet another plate. Their attention did not matter, he decided; he did not want to stay here. It was the first place Thor would come if his father managed to repair the Bifrost. Better to be far away from here, from her.

Yet when his nice black vehicle came back into view Loki stopped in his tracks. A dozen men in black suits were swarming around it, shining lights on its interior and doing odd things like dusting powder on its surfaces.

"Damn," he whispered, stepping back into the shadow of a shop door. They must have found the agents' bodies, or at least realized they were missing, and somehow located the vehicle. And now he had no means of transportation, or at least none until he discovered the hidden paths of Midgard. But that would take time, time and shelter.

Loki closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the shop's glass door. What was he supposed to do now? Where could he go? He wanted his rooms; he wanted his comfortable bed and his library and his servants. He wanted his own space, one he could retreat to and not see anyone for days. He wanted to go home.

**. . . . .**

"Loki!" There was a pounding on his door, not for the first time that day. "Brother! Time to come out!"

Also not for the first time that day, Loki made no answer. He sat on his bed cross-legged, a heavy old book of magic in his lap.

"Loki, it's time to spar!" The door shuddered on its hinges.

"Maybe he's not there. Come on, Thor, we're already late." It was Sif's voice. Loki smiled; she most certainly would be happy for Thor's tagalong not to be with them and would drag his brother away soon. The older prince pounded on the door and called a few more times, then their voices grew softer as they walked away.

"Ever since we went to Alfhiem..." Thor sounded disgruntled.

"Maybe he's not meant to be a warrior." She sounded inexcusably pleased to Loki's ear, but he ignored the slight. He had better things to do than play at warfare these days.

The young prince raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Fire blossomed to existence in his palm, perfectly controlled and dancing brightly. He brought his hand closer to his face and smiled, pleased, the green flames reflecting perfectly in his green eyes.

_(end part seven)_


	8. Chapter 8 Playing with Fire

_Author's note:_ Saw the film again (not going to reveal how many times that makes) and I saw something new (well, to me). I wonder if I only noticed it this time because of 3D v. 2D differences? When Loki confronts Thor in the Bifrost and uses Jane to goad him into attacking, I knew his eyes were watering, but he was actually _crying_. One tear down the right cheek. Tom Hiddleston, you kill me. You really just kill me. And thus my obsession grows.

As always, I don't own these characters, I'm just playing in Marvel's universe.

**. . . . .**

**Know Your Place, part eight: Playing with Fire**

"It's about time you climbed out of your cave." Thor grinned at him as he finished sharpening his axe.

"Were you trying to get even paler?" Fandral enquired with a good-natured smile, eliciting a chuckle from Volstagg. "If that was your intent, well done, though I should tell you it's not particularly a look to attract the ladies."

Loki ignored the warrior and kept his attention on his brother. "I heard there's a hunting party today?"

"Yes, but you knew that already, right? You're wearing the right clothes," Thor replied, gesturing at his riding leathers with the axe. "Are you coming with us?'

"You're too smart for me," Loki said with a half-smile that made his brother laugh heartily. "But yes, I thought I would."

"Wonderful! Father will be glad to see you; this was his idea, you know!" Thor stood, his silver armor glittering in the light. "Come, you three, we've vargr to hunt!"

Loki took his customary place at his brother's right side, not glancing at the other two - he could see in his peripheral vision Fandral's brow furrow slightly before the handsome man shrugged and fell into place behind them. He smirked; those two might be Thor's new best friends, but his place was always at his brother's right side.

They made their way to the stables to see the rest of the hunting party assembling in the courtyard. Their father, mighty in his golden armor, sat ready astride Sleipnir; a smile split his face when he saw them.

"Thor, Loki, my sons," he said warmly. "It is good to see you together again."

Loki inclined his head in greeting, pleased that his father would be there to see his triumph, then nearly stumbled forward when his brother clapped him hard on the back. He straightened and shot Thor an icy look as the Allfather chuckled. "Go find your steeds; then we ride."

They waited inside as the stablemen prepared their horses, something they'd done many times before. There was a difference this time, however: the presence of Fandral and Vostagg. He was not sure how to act around them. Fandral was as assured as his brother and just as handsome; he had the air of someone who had never met a challenge he could not beat, and the confidence of someone who was loved on sight. But Loki was not related to him; he could not rely on brotherly love to win him even the slightest consideration. And Volstagg...

He glanced at the large red-head, who was munching loudly on a sandwich as he waited. Crumbs had fallen into his beard, and there was a horn of ale strapped to his massive belt. Loki could not conceive of holding even the shortest conversation with the man.

Thor caught his sigh of discontent and looked down at him curiously. "Is everything all right? You're not worrying about what happened on Alfheim, are you? Because you did just fine."

He had not even been thinking of Alfheim, but hearing of it did not help his mood. "I would... like to do better," Loki admitted softly, hoping that no one else would overhear, looking up at his brother uncertainly.

Thor tilted his head as he met the green gaze, then squeezed his younger brother's shoulder - gently, for once. "Then you will. Don't worry. You're Odin's son; you'll be the equal or better than anyone in Asgard soon enough. Well, except for me of course."

The older prince grinned and, before Loki could duck away, ruffled his hair. The darker boy glared, but could not help but feel encouraged. Thor had that much confidence in him, and he did not even know the skills his younger brother had been honing over the last few weeks. He would be astonished, and so would his father.

Soon after their horses were brought to them and they joined the rest of the hunters, Loki astride Asgeirr with his new spear. When the party was ready, Odin raised his gloved hand and, glowing like the sun in his golden armor, sent them all forward with a wordless yell toward the Bifrost.

Nidavellir was their destination, with the invitation of the dwarven King Hreidmar. While the light dwarves lived mostly underground just as their Duergar cousins on Svartalfheim, working at their forges and carving ever more glorious subterranian halls, they did not ignore what happened on the surface of the realm. A long harsh winter had seen an explosion in the vargr population, which had become so large that the vicious creatures were beginning to explore the caves in search of sustenance.

They were not dumb beasts, vargr - Loki had read about them before deciding to come. They knew how to sniff out where their food was taking shelter, and they hunted in small packs. They had no particular fear of his magic fire, not like the serpent would have had. But smart as they were, they were still beasts. And every beast, Loki knew, had an instinctive fear of fire.

The familiar yank of the Bifrost had them hurtling through Yggdrasil's branches, and then they were on the surface of the realm aptly nicknamed the Dark Fields. Loki knew it was daytime, for a sun wavered weakly over their heads, struggling to pierce through the smokey film that darkened the skies. It might as well be twilight, however. _What will it be like at night?_ he wondered, glancing up at that weak orb. _What moon could even hope to pierce that veil?_

The land around him was just as bleak, covered as it was in ash-stained snow. Gray evergreens surrounded the clearing Heimdall had delivered them to, their branches weighed down and sagging. A few forlorn birds sounded their songs, but the only other sound was snow falling off branches. Several members of the hunting party looked around uncertainly; a few of the horses shied nervously.

Then a howl drifted into the air, fierce, lonely, hungry.

Loki looked swiftly to his left, as did the rest of the hunting party. Before a word was spoken, Odin spurred Sleipnir forward, Thor fast on his heels.

"Go, Asgeirr," he urged. Soon enough they were winding through gray tree trunks and through snow drifts, following in the deep trough gouged by his father's eight-legged steed. Loki peered forward into the gloom, looking for the slightest hint of movement. For a long while all he saw was startled birds and one very frightened rabbit. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a large shadow, wild and fierce, sliding effortlessly through the woods.

"Father! To the left!" he cried, already urging Asgeirr in that direction. He gripped his spear lightly in his off hand, for he did not intend to use it. He could almost feel the fire tickling his palm, so ready it was to be called and used.

Another shadowy form came into view, then another, and Loki could hear the entire hunting party bearing down behind him - except of course for his brother and father, who had pulled ahead once more. It did not matter; there would be more than enough vargr to share. He set his eyes on one of the beasts and set to the chase.

There was no following in his father's path anymore; Asgeirr plowed through snow drifts all on his own, proud and unhesitating. The vargr they chased was fluid as smoke, but they gained steadily until Loki could see its matted black fur and the huge paws that carried it so easily over the drifting snow. The canine was the size of a pony, and he knew if he was unlucky enough to be within reach of its jaws it would rip his throat out without hesitation.

Suddenly the beast whirled to face them, its red eyes glowing in the ashen gloom. Loki drew Asgeirr to a quick halt before they ran right into the deadly fangs he could now see all too easily. A growl as loud as thunder rumbled from its throat, and it crouched, ready to spring.

He did not give it the chance. Green fire blossomed in his upraised hand, illuminating the ashen snow spookily. He spat two words and flung the flames at the vargr.

An awful wailing split the air as the flames engulfed the beast, crackling and furnace-hot. Asgeirr reared in panic, Loki barely managing to stay in the saddle, as the creature howled and convulsed in agony.

"Down, Asgeirr, down," he cried, his eyes wide in horror as he grasped for his spear. This was not what he had imagined. Not even a vargr deserved a death like this. As soon as the stallion touched all four hooves to the ground he threw the spear, thudding it into the creature's chest. The vargr wailed once more and crumpled; then, mercifully, it shuddered and lay still.

Loki stared at it for a moment, then all but fell off Asgeirr and stumbled over to a tree, where he promptly lost the remains of his breakfast. _Awful, wrong, what did I do?_ His mind whirled even as his insides wrenched; his legs were so weak that he dropped to his knees, heaving until there was nothing left to come up.

When he had imagined the moment, he had never pictured the reality of what would happen. He had seen himself on the hunt, and then standing triumphant over the kill. There had been no howling, no pain, no horror. How could he brag about this? He could not; in fact, he would do everything to make sure that Odin and Thor never discovered what he had done. He would have to hide the evidence.

Loki pushed himself up slowly, using the tree trunk to steady himself. Before he turned, though, he heard Asgeirr stomp nervously, then whinny in alarm. "What's wrong?" he asked, returning as quickly as he could on still-weak legs and stroking that black mane. The stallion whinnied and danced back a few steps, his dark eyes wide, and Loki turned to look around with a sinking feeling.

Shadowy figures were emerging from the woods around him, silent as death, red eyes shining in the darkness.

_(end part eight)_


	9. Chapter 9 Resting Place

_Author's note:_ Sorry for the delay. It was a packed weekend, and this one wasn't too easy to write for some reason. Thanks for the feedback, all! As always, I don't own Thor, Loki, or any of the other Marvel characters.

**Know Your Place, part nine: Resting Place**

There were many of them. Too many of them. Loki knew instinctively that he and Asgeirr had almost no chance.

There were at least five vargr circling with low rumbling growls, their deep breaths steaming the air, their exposed fangs shiny even in the flickering green light cast by their dead yet still burning companion. Loki pressed his back against his stallion's trembling flank, his green eyes darting from shadow to giant shadow as he calculated the possibilities. His spear was out of reach, and the creatures were sure to strike soon. Loki knew he had to be quicker if he was to have even the slightest chance at surviving. Stooping swiftly, he scooped up a fallen branch from the ground and ignited the end. Then he was up again, before any of the vargr thought he was showing submission.

"Back," he shouted, waving the branch in front of him. In his other hand he summoned more fire; now was not the time for mercy. The nearest beasts growled and backed away - if only he could be certain that they all were doing the same! But he could see just three of them. Only an idiot would assume that the others were retreating as well. Before he could do anything, however, the stallion reared and bolted into the trees with a panicked scream.

"Asgeirr, no!" Loki cried, but it was too late. With a snarl one of the vargr wheeled in pursuit, and both were swallowed by the dark woods.

Heart pounding, he spun in a circle, and that was the only thing that saved him. One of the giant canine lunged at him, and he barely managed to hit the beast across the face with his torch. It yelped and danced away, but even as it did he could see the others slipping closer, ready to spring. Loki flung his free hand out and sent fire arching out around him as he spun again, desperately trying to keep an eye on them all.

The flames hit one vargr square in the chest and it went up like dry tinder. Awful howls filled the air, but somehow his success enraged the others. One leapt at him, snarling, and he dropped hard to one knee to avoid it - and angonizing pain nearly put him on the ground as the vargr's back claws ripped at his shoulder.

"Father!" The scream ripped out of him before he could stop it, but what did pride matter now? The fire in his hand sputtered and died as blood soaked down his now useless arm; all he could do was weakly wave the torch to keep the creatures away. Green flame reflected like hellfire in four pairs of black eyes as the beasts padded inexorably toward the wounded prince.

Then the ground rumbled beneath him and horses thundered into the clearing. His body trembling, Loki looked up as two figures vaulted from their saddles to land at either side of him. A great axe and a silver sword flashed like green-tinted lightning, and hot blood splashed over all three of them as two vargr collapsed in the trampled snow. He heard his father's roar, and then a blast of brightest light incinerated the two remaining beasts.

"Father," he whispered, relief rushing through him, chasing away the terror. But fear apparently had been the only thing that had been keeping him up; now pain surged through him in a wave, and he dropped the torch to catch hold of one of the nearby legs so he would not fall flat on his face.

"Loki?"

He looked up at the owner of the limb he was clutching to see Fandral looking down at him with unmistakable concern. He tried to smile up reassuringly, but he was in too much pain to lie, not even to save face.

"You killed two of them!"

Loki could hear the triumphant laughter in his brother's voice right before a hand landed on his wounded shoulder. A cry escaped him and the edges of his vision went black. Somehow Fandral was there to catch him before he pitched over, slipping an arm around him. "Steady now," the blond warrior murmured.

"Brother?" Thor's voice slipped from celebration to alarm in a heartbeat, and then he was kneeling at Loki's other side. "You're wounded! We have to get you home."

"Asgeirr," the younger prince gasped. "Have to find him. Ran ... ran that way."

He nodded his head toward where he thought the stallion had fled, but he was so turned around that he knew he might be indicating the exact opposite direction. Then the darkened trees were blocked by the figure of his father, his golden armor reflecting the dying green flames still consuming the two vargr Loki had killed.

"My son," Odin Allfather said, reaching out and gently taking Loki's chin in his hand. Blinking rapidly, Loki met his father's gaze and tried to pull himself straighter; there was so much worry in Odin's eye and he hated being the cause of it.

"I'm fine," he gasped, lying through clenched teeth. "I took two but ... there were too many of them. I couldn't..."

"You did well, son," Odin said gently. "Very well. But you need to go to the House of Healing. Thor, you will take him?"

"Of course," his brother said immediately even as Loki tried to shake his head.

"Don't need to ... interrupt the ... hunt," he managed, his father's praise numbing some of the agony in his shoulder, but his father shook his head and smiled.

"Go with your brother now." He patted Loki's cheek. "We'll speak later."

He tried once more to protest, but cursed weakness washed through him and he sagged in Fandral's arms. "Yes, father."

"Come, let's get you up," Thor said as Odin turned back to Sleipnir. "Fandral, help me get him on my horse."

"Can walk," Loki muttered.

"No one will think less of you for riding," Fandral said with a soft laugh, even as he slowly guided the young prince to his feet. Loki's field of vision narrowed again, little lights dancing in his eyes. "Anyone who killed two of those beasts deserves to return to Asgard in honor."

Before he even realized what the men were doing they somehow managed to fling him onto Thor's horse. He gritted his teeth so a cry wouldn't escape him, and he shut his eyes tight against the tears that welled. His brother vaulted up behind him, put an anchoring arm around his wais before he could protest, and spurred his horse back toward the Bifrost site.

The jarring gallop wrenched Loki so violently that he was soon all but senseless. He was barely aware of Fandral's presence, guarding them against any ambush, and only knew that they had reached the clearing when he heard Thor bellowing for Heimdall to open the Bifrost. The violent jerk of the bridge catching him was the last straw; he fell into pain-free darkness and knew nothing else.

Loki blinked awake some time later, his green eyes slowly focusing on an arched golden ceiling. Then a golden-haired figure leaned over him, and he was gazing into wide lavender eyes set in a pretty face. Before he could start she smiled and put her hand on his chest; though the touch was light as a feather it felt the equivalent of an order, and he stayed where he was.

"I'm glad you're back with us. How do you feel?" she asked, her voice warm like honey. Before he could begin to formulate an answer, his brother leaned into his field of vision from his other side.

"Brother! I told her you wouldn't be out long. Ready hunt more vargr?" Thor grinned down at him.

Loki managed a weak smile. "Not quite yet," he whispered. In truth he did not feel any pain at the moment, though it also felt like he was floating in water when he knew that he must be lying in a bed.

The woman snapped her fingers, reclaiming his attention. "Answer me, prince Loki, not your brother," she commanded, though her words were still warming as the sun.

"Oh. I feel ... I feel fine, I feel nice," he answered, all the while wondering why his normally quick tongue felt heavy as lead.

She nodded, then took his wounded arm and raised it. He tensed automatically, but no pain came. She smiled as he blinked up at her in surprise and moved his arm into different positions before finally lowering it to the bed once more. "It has healed well. As long as you allow it complete rest for a few more days, you will suffer no ill-effect."

"Then why ... why do I feel strange, like ... can't quite think?" he asked, glancing worriedly at Thor for reassurance.

"Because I thought you had been in enough pain for one day," the woman answered kindly. "Get some sleep; you'll wake up to find everything back to normal."

She rose and turned away. Loki could see Fandral now; the warrior had been lounging behind her and was watching her appreciatively as she walked away.

Thor laughed softly, recapturing his attention. "Eir is pretty to look at, brother, but I have a question for you."

He blinked and looked up once more at his brother, who still leaned over him. "Yes?" he asked uncertainly.

"The fire. Those green flames. Where did they come from?"

Loki hesitated, but Thor looked honestly curious. He took a moment to get his thoughts in order - it really was not as easy as it should be - and then answered. "They were mine. I created them."

"How?" It was Fandral; he had finally wrenched his attention away from the healer. "They didn't exactly seem natural."

"Ah... magic," he said hesitantly. He immediately regretted the tone, and lifted his chin slightly, though the gesture was like lost considering he was resting on a very fluffy pillow. "I can perform magic."

Fandral arched an eyebrow and Thor furrowed his brow. "Magic?"

"Yes. See..." He struggled to sit, but did not succeed until his brother slipped a large hand under his unwounded shoulder and guided him up. He smiled tightly and nodded, then carefully raised his hand, thankful that in magic at least he was ambidextrous. He concentrated for a moment and the now-familiar green flames flickered to life in his palm.

Thor gasped and Fandral straightened from where he lounged on a nearby bed. Loki found himself smiling and let the flame grow a bit, but then a wave of weariness washed over him and he snuffed it out. Setting the linens on fire would not be the best way to recover, and he suddenly felt exhausted.

"I can do a few other things," he said before his words were interrupted by a yawn.

"It's ... impressive," Fandral said.

"Yes," Thor chimed in. He glanced at the other warrior, but then shook his head and smiled. "How'd you learn that?"

"Books," he answered around another yawn.

Thor rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Of course. I'm glad you're feeling better, brother. Go to sleep. We'll talk more later." Reaching out, he gently pushed Loki back onto the bed.

He tried to protest, but as soon as his head found the pillow again sleep washed over him and he knew no more.

**. . . . .**

Lurking in a doorway feeling sorry for himself was not precisely a good solution to the situation Loki found himself in. He doubted very much that the SHIELD agents would know who he was or what he had done, but that did not mean he was ready to draw their attention. Unfortunately in a settlement this small it was not easy to pass unnoticed.

Not easy for someone who was not a master of magic, that was. A tiny amount of concentration caused the air to shimmer around him, and if anyone had been looking his way he would have simply faded from their sight. Thus protected, Loki stepped back out and walked down the side of the street toward the black-suited men. He had much practice at being invisible and could have navigated a crowd without anyone knowing he was there, but this posed no challenge at all. There was simply no one here to sidestep.

"We've got fingerprints, but so far no hits," one of the men was saying when Loki came to a halt about ten feet away from the activity surrounding the vehicle he had taken.

"Glove compartment was rifled through," another reported from inside the vehicle.

"No blood or any other fluids," reported a third, who seemed to be running some sort of odd purple light over the seats and floor. Loki wondered what sort of magic it performed.

_Technology_, he reminded himself. _They call it technology here._

A plain-faced man who seemed to be in charge nodded. "Two search teams, one for the town and one for the sector they were sent to. If the GPS says they went out there then they could still be there; we can't chance them being stranded."

While the man's face and tone were as bland as could be, Loki was a good enough liar himself to recognize the concern lurking beneath the commander's benign words.

"Maintain radio contact; I want check-ins with HQ every 10 minutes. If you see anything even remotely out of the ordinary, call it in." The man identified two teams with impressive efficiency, and the Asgardian prince decided the man was someone to watch. He did not command with drama or flair, and so perhaps no one would die for him, but he had a competence that suggested he could be dangerous.

"Agent Coulson, we've got a call from that Darcy girl."

The commander sighed and took the device that was handed to him, putting it to his ear as he and another agent walked to a different black vehicle. "What can I do for you, Ms. Lewis?" was all Loki could hear before the door shut.

For a moment he was tempted to somehow follow Coulson's trail, but he was not sure how to manage it. Besides, he was not fully recovered from his ordeal. He suspected that tackling a group like SHIELD, likely a valuable enterprise, should be done only when he was ready.

Instead he followed the team that spread out to search the town, shadowing a pair of them as they searched and cleared likely places the missing agents might be along with locations someone might be hiding. Along the way he overheard a lot of muttering about aliens falling out of the sky and destructive robots and how this post probably was not the safest assignment SHIELD could offer. The two men struck him as whiny. They complained too much to be anything like the warriors of Asgard, who welcomed a chance to shine and die in battle – but the complaints were educational. By the time the agents led him to what seemed to be the local inn, he had a good idea of how the local SHIELD outpost operated.

The shabby inn – a squat, one-story structure that seemed to consist of a long, open walkway with numbered doors down the wall – seemed to be the gathering place for the search team. His two agents dawdled outside after asking the innkeeper whether he had registered any new guests, and the portly old man had told them no. Two by two other agents arrived, reporting negative results, until the entire team was assembled and headed back to their vehicles.

Loki did not follow this time. The inn was what he needed, even if it did look like a strong wind could knock it asunder. He waited for a good amount of time to pass so he would not be arriving on the heels of the agents, occupying himself by replicating the odd paper currency these Midgardians used. Only after enough time had passed did he let the invisibility fade. Attired in the illusion of the simple clothes he had devised earlier, he entered the dingy office.

A bell rang with the opening of the door, alerting the old man at the desk to his presence. "Evening, son. Looking for a room?"

"Yes," he answered, looking at his surroundings and disguising the dismay he felt. He could only hope that the room would be less dusty.

"Room 13 is available," the man said with a pleased smile, turning to take one of the keys off the wall behind him. "End of the row, that way you don't have to worry about neighbors on one side. That'll be forty a night."

Loki nodded; the currency might be strange but at least it was easy to understand. He pulled out two pieces of green paper and handed them over, taking the room's key in exchange.

"Good, just sign here," the innkeeper said, pushing a ledger book toward him across the desk. "What'cha in town for? Part of the clean-up?"

"Oh, no. I had difficulties with my vehicle." Loki paused, uncertain what name to use but knowing better than to use his own. Finally he wrote down the first name that came to mind: Vali Magnesson, the author of the book of magic that had been so useful to him as a child.

"Sorry to hear that," the man said, then looked at the name with a puzzled look.

"Norse," Loki explained with a smile and a shrug that practically shouted _nonthreatening_. "My parents like tradition."

The man harrumphed and nodded. "Could be worse; I knew a girl name Candy Apple once. You need anything, just call."

"Yes, thank you," he said, started to turn, then looked back. "I didn't catch your name."

"Oh. Ben, Ben Richmond."

Loki paced backed to the desk, smiling faintly as the man looked up at him. He raised a finger to his lips, shushing the man's question before he voiced it, and caught his gaze with his own. Richmond looked puzzled at first, but then the expression slowly faded from his face and eyes until he stood blankly.

"Ben Richmond," the prince said, raising his finger and moving it slowly back and forth in line with the innkeeper's vision. The glazed eyes followed it slowly. "Ben Richmond, you will tell no one that I am here. The room is empty but unavailable. Do you understand me?"

Richmond nodded vaguely. "Good. Enjoy your night."

Loki retreated and soon enough let himself into his room – his very dark room. He shut the door and summoned a small amount of flame, just enough to let him discover how the lights worked. There had been switches in the interior of the vehicle that controlled light, temperature, and other things, so he looked around for something similar. Finally he found something similar and gave it a try, then winced.

The white light exposed a room dominated by burnt orange and brown furnishings, fake wood (for there was no possible way the ugly panels on the walls came from an actual tree), and matted beige carpet. Loki scowled, banished the fire, and then waved his hand. The interior of the room changed to soothing greens and golds; an illusion only, but at least now his eyes did not hurt. Perhaps it was a silly thing to waste power on, but there were simply some things that could not be tolerated.

He circled the room quickly, securing it from any intruders (even the innkeeper) and pulling the curtains firmly closed. Then he found the bathing facilities, but was becoming too tired to do much more than wash his face. As soon as he removed his armor and boots he fell into the less-than-comfortable bed. In only moments he was asleep, curled on his side, the room fading back to its original colors around him.

_(end part nine)_


	10. Chapter 10 Truth and Consequences

_Author's note:_ I'm trying to figure out exactly what powers Loki has - he seems more limited in the movie than the comics. I've decided not to have him fly or easily teleport himself, since if he could do that in the movie then I'm pretty sure he would have teleported to the Bifrost instead of riding a horse. ;)

It looks to be a busy weekend, so this might be my last update until next week. As always, Marvel owns these characters, not me. I'm just working through a slightly unhealthy Loki obsession.

**Know Your Place, part ten: Truth and Consequences**

When Loki finally woke up he did not know how long he slept but only that he felt refreshed for the first time since...

_How long has it been?_ he wondered, sitting up and stretching the kinks out of his neck. _Since before I came to Midgard. Since ... since Thor and I went to Jotunheim. Since I found out what I am._

He sighed and ran a hand through his disordered hair. The knowledge he had gained should not hurt, really, because it explained so many things. Why else had he never fit in? Not even Thor had ever seen him as an equal. Why else had he never made any true friends? Even Fandral had betrayed him in the end. Why else had his father denied him, even after he had killed his birth father to prove himself true?

"You never belonged," he told himself quietly. "No matter what you tried, no matter what you accomplished, because you are not Asgardian. And you never will be. Time to put away what is past."

Easier said than done perhaps, but he would have to try. Resolved, he looked up and was immediately assaulted by the ugliness of his surroundings. In a heartbeat they shimmered into a (much smaller) approximation of his bedroom in Asgard. He blinked, looked around, then smiled.

"Baby steps, I suppose." He refused to abide in such hideous surroundings. He would simply have to find some place better before he could put even his preference in decor aside. Chuckling, he rose from the bed and went to bathe.

**. . . . .**

Eir had insisted he leave her care with his arm in a sling, a condition so mortifying that Loki nearly chose to stay in the healing room until it came off. But he had been imprisoned there overnight and already he was bored out of his mind. Thor and Fandral had left to rejoin the hunt and, while he loved his mother, he could not bear her babying him any more than she already had. He was too old to be cossetted and tucked snugly into bed under enough blankets to smother him.

So Loki slipped back to his quarters and shut himself away with his books, ordering all his meals delivered to him there. He did not want to socialize or share stories of the hunt and pretend it was glorious instead of terrifying. He absented himself from weapons practice with the partially valid excuse of "doctor's orders," even though Eir had dropped by two days later to examine him, pronounce him healed, and collect the sling.

No, he had better things to do. He had to learn more. Fire was useful, but obviously it had its drawbacks. There were so many different possibilities - manipulation of the other elements, energy projection and force fields, hypnotism - but the one that fascinated him the most was illusion. It had so much potential, offensive, defensive, and (he had to admit) simply for fun. In some way it almost called to him, much the way he imagined battle called to his brother.

It was so fascinating that soon he rarely heard the knocks of servants on his door at mealtimes. He only ate the cold food they left in their wake when hunger interrupted his concentration, and slept only when he simply could keep his eyes open no longer. His mother checked on him once, and somehow he convinced her that he was not hiding but simply busy. There was something in her eyes as she left, an expression he could not decipher, but the promise of his books immediately reclaimed his rapt attention. He could have stayed there for weeks, but only a few days later someone pounded so vigorously on his doors that they shook on their hinges before flying open, revealing the always awe-inspiring figure of Odin.

His heart in his throat, Loki jumped up from his chair to his feet, knocking into the table in his haste. "You're back from the hunt," he said, not certain why he felt so nervous; normally he liked it when his father visited.

Odin strode across the room, the doors swinging shut behind him, and took his arms in a gentle but very firm grip. His blue eye traveled over his son, examining every inch of him, or at least it seemed so to Loki who had to do his best not to squirm.

"Father?" he asked hesitantly. "Did… did everything go well?"

Instead of answering, the Allfather knelt and gathered him into a hug. "I am glad you are well, son. I was worried."

Loki gaped in surprise but embraced him back. "I'm fine, really. The healer was very good."

Odin pulled back and met his gaze. "Yes, they are quite talented, but that does not keep a father from worrying about his son. What were you thinking, Loki, going off on your own? Why did you act so foolishly?"

An embarrassed flush rose in the young prince's cheeks; he felt the heat but could not hide the reaction before his father saw it. "Thor," Loki started weakly, but anything else he had to say was cut off by his father's head shake.

"You are not Thor," he said, his tone mild but strong as folded steel. "He is older than you, Loki, and has more skill. He is able to do things you are not yet ready for. I would have thought the incident on Alfheim would have taught you that."

The warmth in Loki's cheeks heated even more at the gentle chastisement. "I did well against that serpent; I struck a true blow—"

"You could not handle it alone, and you certainly could not handle the Vargr alone," Odin declared. "Loki, my son, you are smarter than this. Stop trying to be your brother and simply be yourself. In time you will both be men, but you are not that yet."

The prince lowered his eyes, a wave of humiliation washing over him. "I didn't think there would be more than one," he admitted in a strained whisper.

"There always are." Odin rose to his feet, standing over him once more. "There are always more foes than you expect. Plan accordingly, and you will be ready for them."

It was good advice, but his father was not finished. His brow wrinkled sternly. "And remember this, Loki. You are a prince of Asgard. When you endanger yourself you endanger others. If it seems that you cannot be allowed out without escort and guard, you will not have permission to leave the palace. Do you understand?"

It was monsterously unfair, but he nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. If he cried out in protest, he surely would be locked away, and besides he was certain his voice would tremble. He would not show such weakness in front of his father.

"Good. Now. Your mother tells me you have locked yourself away in here with books from the library, and Thor tells me a strange story of how you killed the two vargr. I would hear it from you."

Loki blinked uncertainly. He could discern no hint of Odin's thoughts in his face or voice; any inclination he might have possessed to boast of his newfound talents had withered under the weight of the Allfather's lecture. But surely he already knew the answer. Trying to hide it from him would only result in another sermon.

"After we went to Alfheim I wondered if there was an easier way to defeat the serpent," he explained, choosing his words carefully. He had been proud to cultivate a talent that few if any seemed to possess, but now he wondered if there was some prohibition on magic that he had never heard about. "A book told me they were afraid of magical fire, and so I found a book on that."

"And so the damage to the library is finally explained," Odin said sternly.

"Ah, yes father, that was an accident," he said, ducking his head again in chagrin. "But I have been learning ever since. I can control the fire now, and…."

"Hmmm."

The interruption shushed him, and he sneaked a peek up. Odin was staring at him closely, his thoughts again unreadable. There was certainly no pride or encouragement to be found there, though at least there was no horror or disgust. "It is an… odd path you choose to walk, my son. It is not a talent many are gifted with. You are certain it is a skill you wish to hone?"

Loki's green eyes widened and he nodded quickly. "Yes, yes definitely. I'm good at it, father. It feels right. You told me not to try to be Thor, right? Well, this is what I am good at, just as Thor is good with that axe of his. I can do this, and do it well, I'm sure of it."

"Hmmm." Another wordless, cypher-like rumble escaped the Allfather, and he stared at his son a while longer before finally nodding once. "Very well. You may continue your studies, though I ask that you practice them where others, not to mention the surroundings, will not be harmed by any accidents. The top of the Stellan Tower is empty; I shall let it be known that it is your place and you are not to be disturbed while you are there. Perhaps we can find you a teacher, if we can identify a trustworthy one."

Loki's smile flashed and his eyes brightened. "Thank you father, I—"

"But you are to neglect your weapons training no longer. A prince of Asgard is a warrior above all else. You will make no more excuses now that you are healthy."

He swallowed and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good. Your mother expects you at the feast celebrating the hunt. You will be there?" At Loki's nod he smiled. "Good. And son, I am sorry about your horse."

Loki flinched at the simple words, but Odin had already turned and did not see the reaction. Nor did he see his son's hands begin to tremble as he left the room.

Only when the doors were closed did Loki allow a pained gasp to escape. He had thought, he had _hoped_, that Asgeirr had won free. The stallion was swift, certainly swifter than the vargr. He had assumed that he had rejoined the hunting party, that even now he was contentedly napping in the stables.

With a soft cry Loki folded to the floor and hid his face in his hands. The pain was not physical, it was not the razor-sharp pain of having his shoulder ripped open, but somehow it hurt even more. His fault. He was not good enough, and Asgeirr had paid the price for it.

"Brother?" Thor's voice was hesitant.

Loki groaned softly; how he wished his father had locked the doors! "Go away," he muttered, wiping almost violently at his eyes and starting to rise. A hug knocked him back to the ground.

"I'm sorry. I had to tell him. Are you in trouble?" Thor asked, settling down beside him. While he dropped one arm, he kept the other one wrapped inescapably around his thin brother.

"What?" Loki asked uncertainly, then realized what his brother was talking about. With his triumph in ashes, it was difficult to talk at all. "No, I… no, it's… fine. He might find me a… a teacher."

"Well that's good then, right?" the blond prince asked uncertainly. "What's troubling you?"

"I…." Loki swallowed. Thor would never cry over a horse. He should not either. He was about to issue a denial, but his brother shook his head and frowned fiercely.

"Do not think to tell me that it is nothing. If someone has hurt you, tell me and we will hunt them down together. If you need something, I will get it. You're my brother; I'll take care of you."

Something inside him wanted to cry out in frustration – he could take care of himself, and he did not have any problems that could be solved by the application of fists or sharp objects. Thor always thought things were so simple! But that startling, rebellious sliver inside him could not stand against the guilt that had crushed him to the floor, nor against the blazing earnestness in his brother's blue eyes.

"Asgeirr," he confessed, sudden tears obscuring his vision, his cheeks flushing once more. "I thought he … got away."

Thor exhaled and pulled him close again. "I'm sorry, little brother," was all he said, but it was enough to send the tears rolling down Loki's cheeks. Shaking, the younger prince buried his face in his brother's shoulder and sobbed quietly. He knew his sorrow was a weakness, one he would have to banish if he was ever going to be a true prince, but his brother's embrace would not allow it. Warm and sheltered, he let his grief run free.

But not for long. Even though Thor wisely said nothing, his brother was tense and Loki could tell he was a little uncomfortable. So he drew a deep breath and willed the tears away, stuffing them deep down inside where they would not escape. Freeing a hand, he sniffed, leaned back, and wiped at his face. "Thanks."

Thor reached up to ruffle his hair and he allowed it. "No worries. You'll be at practice tomorrow?"

He nodded, and his brother smiled. "Good. Back to normal, then. Come to the feast; we'll drink to your first kill."

"Sounds good," he said with a small smile, letting Thor pull him to his feet. "I'll see you then."

With a cheerful wave his brother left. Only then did Loki's false smile fade.

_(end part ten)_


	11. Chapter 11 Illusions

_Author's note:_ Sorry for the delay. I kept wanting to write a chapter about Loki's teacher because I saw _Tales of Asgard_, but it doesn't fit into the overall story arch. Maybe I'll do a standalone once I finish this story. The _Thor _DVD is coming out at the end of August. Yay! Not too much longer to wait…. As always, Marvel owns most of these characters. I'm just playing in their universe.

**Know Your Place, part eleven:** **Illusions**

For years it was easier to find Odin's younger son by climbing the stairs of Stellan tower than it was to go to his rooms. Thor grew his beard out as soon as it started coming in (the more to look like their father, Loki was certain), Fandral bedded half the unmarried women in the castle (and a few married ones besides, from what Loki had heard), and Volstagg grew even larger (causing Loki to nickname him the Voluminous One), but he spent most of his free time up in the cool stone chamber with its stone floors and large arched windows. It was cool and breezy even at the height of summer, and perhaps a little chill at night and during the winter, but Asgard was not a land of extremes. His father had given him the perfect gift.

It was illusion that had called to him, and illusion that he was becoming a master of. Already he had perfected the small tricks, such as creating the sound of footsteps to distract a guard or the crash of a charging boar to give a girl in the gardens a fright. He had made Volstagg pour ale all over the table by making him believe his cup was a foot away from where it actually sat. He had even caused Fandral to run home and change his shirt by making the handsome warrior think it smelled of something foul from the stables. They were amusing tricks, if not particularly useful on the field of battle. But the skill he was mastering now … _that_ would be useful.

"Loki!" His brother's voice boomed from the stairwell, announcing his presence just before he bounced into the room like an oversized hound. "There you are! What are you so pleased about?"

"Oh, nothing that would interest you," he said with an enigmatic smile.

"Nonsense, I find your tricks amusing," Thor said with a laugh. "But I was hoping to tempt you down to the practice grounds. Sif will try to win the right to train with us, and I would like you to be there."

"Me? Why do you think that's a good idea? I'm rather certain she still hates me."

Thor laughed and thumped him on the shoulder. "You exaggerate. That was years ago; she's forgiven you by now. Besides, if she wins—and she will, I taught her myself—she'll be one of us. So come with me, brother, and watch."

Loki hesitated but then nodded. He was certain Sif had _not_ forgiven him, not based on the looks he received from her sometimes when she attended a feast or court function. Her hair was still as midnight-dark as his, and though she grew it long and wore it proudly how could she not wish that she still resembled other Asgardians instead of being odd? And now she was going to join their little circle?

"Very well, I'll come," he said with a shrug. His concession was met with a grin, and soon he found himself in the training yard, exhilarated by their race down the tower's spiral staircase.

Fandral and Volstagg were already there, along with a dark haired man he did not know. The redhead was munching on a turkey leg while the blond warrior watched Sif across the yard; the stranger, whose hair was as black as Loki's, had dark skin and foreign eyes. He stood stiffly next to the others, and when his dark eyes settled on Loki the younger prince felt as if he was being examined under a microscope. It was not pleasant. Then the man grunted, nodded at him, and returned his attention to the training yard.

Volstagg hailed the princes heartily and Loki, still slightly unsettled, managed a smile. Deciding to ignore the stranger, he turned his attention to Sif. She grinned when she saw his brother, but the expression faded when she spotted him. He simply smiled and nodded at her, then took his place to Thor's right.

"Are you ready, Lady Sif?" Thor called out.

She smiled and saluted him with her sword. "Always."

"Then begin!"

A small collection of royal guardsmen were clustered along one side of the yard. At Thor's command one of them separated himself and strode toward the center of the yard. Loki noted with interest that both he and Sif bore real swords; apparently this was to be no practice match. He supposed if she was truly intent on proving herself elite, she would want to face the guardsman with a real weapon in hand; that way no one could deny her victory. And Loki had no doubt that she would be victorious—he remembered her fire and quickness from their one bout years ago, and certainly she would only have gotten better.

_And she is still a wonder to watch_, he realized as the two ran at each other. She fought like a deadly dancer, whirling and slashing and jumping. As good as the guard was—and Loki knew he was very good, having been trained by the man himself—he simply could not keep pace. He tagged her a few times, minor cuts only, because she did not stay still long enough for him to seriously hurt her. And then with a sudden motion it was over; she wrapped his blade with her own and sent it flying to land in the dust twenty feet away.

Fandral and Volstagg cheered while Thor laughed merrily. "See, Anundr, I told you she was fleet as a wild mare. Must she fight each of your men, or are you convinced of her worth?"

The captain of the guard, who had watched the match along with his men, shook his head in wonder. "I should have not doubted your word, my lord, but never have I seen a maiden fight with such skill. She is worthy to train with us and take her place in the exalted ranks of the Varangian."

Sif smiled triumphantly, and even Loki found himself feeling happy for her. He thought the bias against female fighters was silly; his mother was perfectly capable of smiting enemies in two with a sword, and he knew several of the other women in the castle were just as deadly with a blade. Why they all seemed content to stay in their prescribed roles he would never understand. Sif, at least, knew what she wanted and took it without apologizing.

Thor walked over to congratulate her, and Loki followed in his footsteps. The warrior maiden was all but glowing under his brother's praise. She had grown annoyingly, like girls seemed to do, grown early and fast and thus she was still taller than him. It grated, but he did not let that show when he reached his brother's side and nodded to her. "Congratulations. You fight very well."

Her gaze cooled a fraction as she looked at him, but she maintained her smile. "Still better than you, I wager," she said merrily, prompting Thor to chuckle.

Loki raised his chin and met her gaze head on, matching her merry smile with a wry one. "Oh, I wouldn't know about that, but you are good. You trained her well, brother."

"Watch yourself," Thor warned him with a laugh, but he was interrupted by Sif, whose eyes flashed dangerously.

"My skills are my own, and my victory is my own," she said, drawing herself up so she stood even taller than before. "And if you would like a rematch, you may have it."

Behind them Volstagg roared with laughter. "Are we to have another match? Good! That first one was too quick."

Thor looked at his brother; Loki saw a hint of concern in his blue eyes that perversely spurred him onward. "Very well, I accept," he said blandly.

"Well then, a match it is," Thor said with a bemused shrug, stepping back, but Fandral appeared at Loki's other side.

"You did not bring a weapon," he said quietly to the younger prince. "Do you wish to borrow my sword?"

Green eyes flitted over Fandral's face as Loki tried to decide whether the warrior was mocking him or not, but all he saw in that honest face was concern. Hopefully this bout would persuade them all that they had no reason to be concerned for him, that he could hold his own in combat, but he could not find it in himself to find the man's offer annoying. "It is a fair question, Fandral, but I will be fine. I have a weapon."

He drew one of his throwing knives from its concealed sheath at his wrist. The handsome warrior raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Thor started. "Now brother, I don't want either of you seriously hurt."

"Don't worry, Thor, I won't hurt him. Not much," Sif said, forestalling Loki's answer. He merely smiled and nodded at his brother before walking out onto the field and taking his place.

Of all the warriors he had faced, Sif was the closest match to his own skills. Both relied on swift feet and dexterity, but she had a longer reach, not to mention a much more formidable weapon than a knife. As Loki did not intend to let her anywhere within striking distance, however, he was not worried.

When they stood facing each other they saluted, and then Sif immediately charged. He spun out of her way, as lithe and quick as she, and for a moment let her do her best to hit him. Just as he had the first time they had fought, she would slowly pick up a pattern in his movements—but this time he intended for her to pick it up. She lunged and he dodged left; she feinted and he dropped back; she spun and brought her sword slicing down, and he dropped, rolled, and sprang to his feet to her right. He reacted differently to each different attack, but when she lunged he once again dodged left, again dropped back from a feint, setting the pattern, waiting for her to try to use it against him.

Finally she spun for the third time and brought her sword down, her eyes already straying to the right where she expected him to go. He could see the anticipation in her eyes, and as he rolled he concentrated hard. He went to the left, and a perfect image of him went to the right. But she could not see him, not the real him, and when she brought her sword down it passed through the illusion and hit the ground.

She tumbled forward, completely off balance. The real Loki stepped in from her left and laid the flat of his knife blade against the back of her neck. "You're dead," he said simply, remembering her taunt from those years ago.

There was stunned silence for a moment, then she growled "you cheat!" at him and rolled away, coming up to her knees a few feet away from him, sword in hand, a scowl on her pretty face.

"I do no such thing," Loki said loftily. "What say you, brother? You use your phenomenal strength, Fandral uses his fearlessness, Volstagg uses his momentum and weight. Is it cheating for me to use the skill I was born with?"

As he spoke he kept his eyes on Sif, not trusting her to stay where she was, but he yearned to see his brother's reaction to his display of power. He did not have long to wonder as his brother pounded him on the back so hard that he staggered.

"Brother, that was amazing! You scared me, I thought she—how'd you do that?" the older prince demanded, laughing. "You were there, but you weren't, I thought she was going to skewer you!"

As the stars cleared out of his eyes he could see his brother grinning. Fandral and Volstagg had followed, looking at him in wonder. Loki couldn't help but feel a thrill of triumph. Finally he had managed to impress them all!

"You can't believe that was fair!" Sif exploded, rising to her feet and looking to Thor in appeal.

"Battle isn't fair," Loki reminded her

His brother hesitated, but finally nodded. "What he says is true, Sif. Loki is not the only one to play tricks in a fight. Better to be prepared."

"Sorcerers are not to be trusted," a gruff voice said. Loki narrowed his eyes and looked in the direction of the words; they had come from the dour-looking stranger.

"And you must not be very smart," he replied tartly. "I am a prince of Asgard. Who do you think I would betray?"

"Ah, don't mind Hogun, he's had some bad experiences with magic," Fandral said merrily, patting the young prince on the shoulder as the newcomer watched them dourly. "A useful trick, that. Come, let's get a drink and you can tell us what else you can do."

Loki let Fandral draw him away, but as he passed Sif he gave her a wink and a grin, chuckling when her eyes flashed. No longer did he feel any need to impress her!

**. . . . .**

Finding SHIELD agents was a more difficult exercise than Loki had expected. As he strolled through the small town he kept an eye out for the men in the black suits but saw not one of them. The vehicle he had taken was gone, and none stood watch over the place where it had been. He saw none in the stores, or on the streets. But finding one of those agents and learning where they were based was what he needed to do.

He could accept being exiled on Midgard. The place had its benefits, and for a realm that seemed so backward it did possess powerful technology. None of it, unfortunately, would stand against the powers of, say, his brother or father. When they inevitably came looking for him, and look for him they would, Loki intended to be prepared. To do that he needed a place of safety and, even more, an object of power that would allow him to stand against Mjolnir or Gungnir. If anyone would know where to find such a thing it would perhaps be the agents of that mortal organization, for he knew they were the guardians dispatched to protect Midgard against powerful threats.

If he could only find them! They had found him twice, both times to his annoyance. But now that he needed them….

He had walked over the entirety of this small settlement, and decided perhaps it was time to find some food and simply enquire after the whereabouts of the agents. Retracing his steps toward the Mexican restaurant, he passed once more the rounded building with the glowing star on its roof—and stopped in his tracks.

_She_ was in there, the mortal woman who had somehow changed his brother so completely. Loki stared at her through the glass, his green eyes narrowed.

_(end part eleven)_


	12. Chapter 12 The Quest

_Author's note:_ I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who are leaving me feedback. It's very appreciated! As always, I don't own Loki (damn!) or Thor or any of these folks. They belong to Marvel (and the Norse).

**Know Your Place, part twelve: The Quest**

Loki stood still, staring at the woman who had ruined everything. He did not know her name, but he recognized her. Oh, yes, he remembered her, the woman who had somehow taught his brother compassion, the one who had been responsible for Thor winning back Mjolnir and his powers, the woman who had brought his careful plans crashing down around his head, fractured as completely as the Bifrost itself.

She did not see him, as she was busy looking at some sort of chart with the man Loki had spoken to before, the older one who had told him where to find the restaurant. The tables of the glass-walled room were full of machines and papers and books, stored in no discernable order. Who was she, and what did she do? How had she captured his brother's attention, other than by her pretty looks? It had to be more than just her appearance, after all—Thor had pretty girls flinging themselves at him constantly, but for this one he had destroyed the Bifrost and isolated Asgard from the nine realms, all but crippling their father's kingdom until the bridge was somehow repaired.

_What makes her so special? How can it be?_ he fumed silently, his green eyes cold as the dark Asgardian sea. Suddenly he remembered his suggestion to his brother that he would visit the girl and discover just that—words flung without any intention other than to goad Thor into a fight. But now that he saw her he burned to know, to understand.

"Can I help you?" a mild voice asked.

Loki blinked and turned to see the plain face of Agent Coulson looking up at him as if he was a faintly interesting distraction; another black-suited agent, tall and almost as big as Thor, stood behind in a guard's stance, eyeing him with open suspicion. He remembered, so suddenly that he wondered why he had not remembered before, that the shorter man was in charge of the entire SHIELD base, not just the small group of men he had seen around the purloined vehicle. Coulson had been there when he visited his brother; thus he was a man to watch … and perhaps to use. He was also a man to be wary of.

"Ah, sorry," he said, smiling and shrugging in a helpless sort of way. "I was just curious about what they were doing in there."

"Why?" Coulson asked in his odd, bland manner. Perhaps others might not realize that he was thinking quickly, running through different possibilities, but Loki recognized that placid look. It was one he employed himself often enough.

"Oh, no particular reason. The man was nice enough to give me directions earlier." He waved a hand toward the people behind the glass. "It all looks rather complicated."

"I suppose it does," the agent said, never taking his eyes off Loki's face.

This was also a tactic familiar to the younger prince of Asgard, offering little in reply so that the malefactor would nervously attempt to fill the silence and unintentionally reveal secrets best kept unsaid. It was not a tactic Loki would fall for. "Are you friends?"

Coulson paused and then answered "co-workers." He obviously intended to say more but Loki cut him off.

"Well then I shouldn't keep you," he said pleasantly. The encounter needed to be ended, and he also needed to hear what the man intended to say to those inside. "Have a nice day."

Turning away, Loki walked down the non-destroyed street. He could feel eyes on his back and did not turn, though he wanted to disappear around the first corner and turn invisible so that he could sneak into that building with Coulson and the other agent. But disappearing into an alley would draw suspicion, suspicion he wanted to avoid, and entering a store would not do at all. So he forced himself to turn down the next corner and out of sight, only then slipping into the darkened shadow of a building and allowing himself to disappear completely.

By the time he returned to the round building Coulson and the other agent were already inside. Invisible or not, Loki knew he could not simply stroll in—agents as alert as these two would certainly notice a door opening and closing on its own. It was too bad he had never learned to teleport, but he did have another option. It was not easy, but knowing what was being said between the SHIELD agent and Thor's annoying woman was worth the effort. Stepping to the side, so he could see the scene but not be in danger of being in anyone's way, Loki murmured a few words and sketched an arcane symbol in the air.

It felt almost like being transported by the Bifrost. His soul jerked from him like a marionette on a string, leaving his body standing rigidly immobile as his consciousness slid through air and glass alike and came to a rest within the large, unnamed agent.

"…highly important that we get your input on the matter," Coulson was saying as the Loki-agent blinked and took a quick, soft breath.

"I'm sorry, I just don't have time," the girl said, her tone distracted as she traced her finger across a star map. "Completing the Einstein-Rosen bridge is taking up every minute of my days; a field-trip is not on my schedule."

Loki willed the guard to look down at the map and was startled to see that she had drawn a loose outline of Yggdrasil across its surface. It was not completely correct, but it was a better guess than anyone from Midgard should have been able to make. Thor had obviously told her something about how the realms were ordered.

"Ms. Foster, please, I realize your work is important to you, but this—"

"No, I'm sorry. That's my answer."

Loki wondered how the placid man would take such refusal, but the older man cleared his throat and spoke up. "I could go in her place. I have to admit I'm curious to see what SHIELD thinks is so important. Are you sure it has nothing to do with recent events?"

"As certain as we can be, Dr. Selvig," the lead agent replied, switching his gaze to the older man. "The item in question has been in SHIELD's possession for some time. No one has been able to solve the mystery, but given the recent gains that you and Ms. Foster have made…."

Selvig nodded. "Well, if I'm an acceptable substitute," he offered with a half-smile. Loki finally placed his accent as a faint descendent of the Norsemen who had worshipped his people as gods.

_How appropriate_. He had to be careful so that the wry smile he felt did not show up on the guard's face. Controlling someone thus, especially when he intended that the man would never realize Loki had been in his mind at all, was a delicate game.

"I was under orders to ask you next," Coulson said. "It's a drive of several hours; I'll arrange for a car to be here tomorrow at nine in the morning."

"I'll be here."

Deciding that he had heard enough, Loki carefully withdrew his presence from the agent's mind and let his soul snap back into his still-invisible body. Looking down at himself he realized that his clothes had reverted back to the gold armor and green and brown clothing that he had faced his brother in—the way he was _supposed_ to look, even if he had to admit that he wore Midgardian clothes well. He had timed the withdrawal perfectly. Coulson was on his way out, followed by his slightly puzzled-looking guard. Taking the opportunity their exit provided, Loki slipped through the open door and into the building.

If SHIELD had a powerful object hidden away he wanted to see it, and if it looked useful he would take it. Until then he would learn what made the girl who had stolen his brother's heart so special.

**. . . . .**

Loki was beginning to be heartily sick of all of the activities surrounding Thor's official coming-of-age. Tourneys, parties, feasts, hunts, all centered on his brother who had the indecency to glow under the intense attention. One would think that after all these years he would not so enjoy being the center of the universe, but if Thor was tiring of it he certainly gave no sign. No, he encouraged it and outdid everyone around him by drinking more deeply, laughing more loudly, and fighting more fiercely. No one could keep up with him, not even Loki.

At least it was now coming to a close. He watched as Odin stood up from his seat at the head of the table, and Loki smiled as an expectant hush replaced the din that had preceded it. It would be good for things to go back to normal, for the palace to be quiet and for his time to be his own again. He had neglected his studies for too long.

"This last fortnight has been a testament to the high regard you are held in, my son," the Allfather said, smiling down at his golden child, who grinned back up at him. "It pleases me that you have won the hearts of our people. It pleases me also that you have grown to be strong and swift of arm."

_Though not mind,_ Loki thought with a mental sigh, though he kept his expression pleasantly attentive to his father's words.

"And so before these festivities come to a close, I have arranged one more event. A test, if you will, to prove your qualities of leadership. Do you accept the challenge?"

Thor rose to his feet immediately, confidently nodding. "I accept, father. What would you have me do?"

Odin nodded, a small smile on his lips, and Loki watched and listened closely. Leadership was not the same as battle prowess, whatever his brother might think.

"I have arranged a war game. You will pick a small force to infiltrate Sumarlidr Hall, which is defended by the Varangian guard. An item of power has been hidden somewhere in those old corridors. If you find and retrieve it you will have won the game." Odin raised a hand, forestalling Thor before he could interrupt. "You will all use blunted weapons; I will not have injuries staining the end of the festival. You will be on your honor to admit what would have been a fatal injury and withdraw from the field; if all of you withdraw, or if you, Thor, are the only member of your team left, you will have failed. Do you understand these terms?"

"Of course, father, and I accept," Thor roared happily, and around him the feasting guests raised their chalices in a cheer. Loki did not cheer, but he did lift his own glass to his brother with a nod.

"Then pick your team and prepare," their father said gravely, though good humor twinkled in his eye. Certainly he knew the answer as well as Loki did, as did everyone else in the hall.

"My brother, of course, for his counsel is wise," Thor announced, his hand landing heavily on Loki's shoulder. "And what better companions in arms could I have fighting at my side but the lady Sif and the Warriors Three?"

The rest of the hall cheered again. Loki's lips tightened almost imperceptibly at the assuredly unintentional slight to his own fighting skills and nodded his acceptance.

"You have chosen wisely, son. Go then and prepare yourselves; the Varangian await you."

Outside the hall they found weapons waiting for them, blunted versions of their favored armaments. Loki fingered the throwing knives, judging them for balance and weight. They were not nearly so fine as the ones he possessed; these were clumsy in comparison, and would prove a challenge to use unpracticed. He supposed creating a blunt axe or sword was an easier proposition than the delicate weapon he preferred. But he had his magic, and that was a better weapon than any of those hefted by his companions.

"They know we are coming, so there is no point in trying to surprise them," Thor announced, gesturing for the others to follow him to the stables. Sumarlidr Hall was on the outskirts of Asgard and they would need horses to reach it; Loki assumed his father had chosen the location in the likely event that his brother would create a ring of destruction even with a blunted blade. "So I say we ride in, battle to the main hall, felling all who would oppose us, and take whatever father has left there. How can they stand up against us, after all?"

Volstagg chuckled in appreciation of the plan, while approval practically glowed from Fandral and Sif. Even Hogun seemed to look forward to the bout with appreciation. It was up to him, then.

"Brother," he said, choosing his next words carefully. "They have had plenty of time to prepare for our arrival. Perhaps taking a few precautions would be wise?"

Thor grinned at him. "What, you think they've set traps? Nonsense. This is the Varangian Guard we're talking of, not some stunted Duergars who practice deceit and trickery. They will offer us a fair fight."

"They will offer us a fair fight that guarantees them the victory," Loki pointed out patiently. "They will have already chosen the best positions to fight from, and they will certainly outnumber us. And if I were them, the last place I'd hide this item of power is in the main hall. I would put it in a closet or somewhere else unexpected, and cut us all down as we searched for it."

"Of course you would," Sif scoffed, but Hogun surprised them all by nodding.

"The young prince is right. Better to be cautious." The others looked at him in surprise, but when Hogun said no more Thor looked back to his brother.

"You may be right. I suppose it won't hurt to at least look at their fortifications before we attack."

Loki smiled. "That's all I ask, brother."

_For now_, he added, though only to himself. He would fight the next battle once they arrived, when it became apparent that charging in would certainly end this test quickly, if not in a manner that Thor would enjoy. As tiresome as these weeks had been, Loki had no desire to see his brother fail, especially not when he could prevent it.

_(end part twelve)_


	13. Chapter 13 War Games

_Author's note:_ Yay, more feedback! I can't respond to most of it :( so I'll just say thanks here. You know, this fic was started as an attempt to manage my Loki obsession, but it doesn't seem to work. Now I'm reading the comics! I miss angsty pretty movie Loki, though... As always, Marvel owns these characters; I'm just playing in their universe.

**Know Your Place, part thirteen: War Games**

Sumarlidr Hall was an ancient building, even by Asgardian standards. Perched on the very edge of the sea, its foundations had been battered over the centuries by countless waves until it had achieved a fragility unique to the realm. No one lived in it now, and yet Odin had never seen reason to replace it. Its tarnished spires stood as a scenic curiosity, a trysting place for secret affairs, a location for ghost stories (for even Asgardian children told ghost stories).

Now it had the appearance of a garrison. Members of the Varangian Guard patrolled its balconies, their dulled weapons mere shadows in their hands now that twilight was falling. Loki spotted several at various windows, and of course there were the obvious ones grouped around the main entrance of the building. There were fewer than he would have expected―only eight―but of course they had done it on purpose, to lure them into a trap. Certainly there would be more waiting just behind those doors, and of course above on the balconies and in the windows.

"I told you," he murmured to his brother, who stood behind the tree next to his, peering at the ancient hall from around its massive trunk. "If we go in the front, maybe half of us will make it through."

"You just might be right," Thor said, frowning. "Still, if only two of us make it through it will be a victory. Sneaking in some other way seems . . . well, sneaky."

Loki rolled his eyes despairingly to the sunset-streaked lavender and orange sky. "It's not sneaky, it's _smart._ Seriously, brother, do you want to get us all killed? Let's try one of the side entrances, or even better, that wall that fell in at the back."

Thor chuckled. "What, that half-submerged hole that leads into the basement? I thought you hated that place."

"Certainly I did, when I was eight and you convinced me a sea-serpent with a taste for eating princes lurked inside." He shot his brother a playful glare. "I know better now."

His brother's chuckle turned into a laugh; he slapped Loki's shoulder and nodded toward where the others were waiting, concealed behind a bend in the road with the tethered horses. They set off, careful not to catch the eye of any of the alert Varangians.

"Sneaking in the back, there's no honor in that," Thor said as they rounded the corner and saw the other four warriors waiting for them.

"Then the side entrance. Or perhaps a two-pronged attack―one group through the side and a second through the back," he suggested. "The chances of finding this object, whatever it is, will increase since we wouldn't all be looking in the same place."

"It would be faster, but who knows how many of them are in there?" Fandral asked, picking up the thread of the conversation easily. He always did when it came to a discussion of tactics, though he favored the same frontal-assault methods practiced by Thor. "Six of us may prevail where three would be slaughtered."

"Exactly!" the older prince agreed, gesturing the others to gather around. Once they did he knelt and began to draw a diagram in the dirt. "But you're right in this at least, Loki―they've put the majority of their forces at the front, so we'll go in the side. Then we'll make our way to the main hall and find the prize."

"And if it isn't there?" the younger prince asked pointedly.

"Then we will look for it," his brother said with a grin. "Come now, you underestimate our chances, little brother. Do not worry so."

Volstagg chuckled. "There's no talking your way to the treasure, young prince, and there's nothing better than a good charge. We'll keep you safe, never doubt."

Loki's green eyes flashed icily, his gaze snapping to the big man's face. "I do not need your protection."

"Of course you don't!" Volstagg laughed, rising gracelessly to his feet. "Come, let's get this started! I grow hungry!"

"Of course you do," Loki muttered as the others began to rise. Across the small circle Fandral caught his gaze and winked. He supposed the other man was trying to cheer him up, but it was not working. They all still treated him like a child, even though he was not one anymore. But as long as he stood in his brother's shadow, who would ever treat him seriously?

"We will keep quiet and hidden and get as close to the entrance as possible, as Loki suggests," Thor was saying. Loki brushed dirt off the knees of his trousers as he listened, keeping his eyes down until he could be certain they showed no anger. "Once we leave the tree line any sentry they have will spot us, so we charge fast and strong through the door. Understood?"

The others replied with a muted cheer; he could be thankful that they were at least _attempting_ to be stealthy. Loki took two of the dulled knives in hand and then took his place next to his brother, the others behind them and to the sides. They made their way with quiet footsteps over pine-needle-strewn ground, slipping through the trees like shadows and pausing only when the side entrance came into sight.

It was a small door, at least in comparison to the main entry; only two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder could fit through. It was, Loki saw, completely unguarded.

"I don't like it," he said immediately.

"You've had your say, brother. The decision is mine." Thor looked at the others, his excited grin apparent even in the darkness. "Let's go!"

The older prince charged out of the cover of the trees, the others on his heels. Loki kept his eyes trained on the hall's towering walls, thankful at least that there were no balconies above them but certain that some trap awaited.

Unfortunately he was looking the wrong way when it sprang, his green eyes scanning dark windows when the earth disappeared from beneath his feet.

He fell with a yelp, dropping his knives and throwing his hands out desperately. He only barely caught the uncertain edge of the pit. Somehow Thor managed to land on solid ground, his feet pounding into the earth only inches from Loki's straining fingers. Volstagg was cursing loudly, and then there was a prodigious thud beneath the younger prince's kicking feet.

"Brother!" he cried out as his grip started to slip on the crumbling edge. Thor wheeled, caught hold of Loki's wrists, and hauled him up to his feet. Heart hammering, he caught his balance by hanging onto Thor's arm even as his brother leaned over and looked down into the pit. Loki turned as well to see the results of their haste.

Fandral teetered on the edge, kept from falling only by the handful of cape in Sif's hands. Hogun peered up at the windows suspiciously, weapon in hand, obviously expecting an attack to come while they were vulnerable. Volstagg was nowhere to be seen, but his rueful chuckle sounded from the deep hole.

"There are runes written on the ground down here. Says _spikes._ Think that means I'm dead," the large warrior called up.

"Are you alright?" Thor called.

"Just some bruises to go along with my bruised my pride. Get going and get them good for me!" Loki could barely see him, deep down in the earth, and breathed a sigh of relief that he had managed to catch himself. If he had fallen, Volstagg would have landed right on top of him.

"Come, brother, we're vulnerable out here in the open," he hissed urgently, still clutching his arm.

Thor hesitated, scowling, but then nodded. "Let's go."

The others rounded the edges of the put with care and joined the brothers at the door. "There's probably a trap here too," Loki warned.

"We go forward. Stand to the sides," Thor said grimly, then kicked in the door and spun out of the way. Several padded arrows split the air where he had stood moments before, and then he and Sif charged in. Loki heard metal clanging on metal before he followed on Fandral's heels, and entered to find several Vangarians throwing down their bows with wry smiles.

"You've killed us, pass through, "one of them said as they withdrew to the side of the room, clearing the path for the group and gesturing toward the passage heading deeper into the building.

"Let's at least not take the direct route," Loki said, heading for a side door instead. "They're obviously prepared for us."

"Right," Thor said simply, and charged past his brother. The others followed on his heels, mad grins on their faces; all except Hogun, who still looked more excited than dour. Loki glanced back at the "dead" guards, but their blank faces gave him no clues as to whether this path would have any surprises on it. Shrugging, he turned and sprinted after his brother.

It turned out to be a good choice. As they followed a twisted path through abandoned rooms they met no further resistance and no traps; obviously the Guard has counted on his brother charging directly to the main hall. Loki kept a sharp eye out as they ran, looking for any disturbances in the dusty surroundings that might give them a clue as to the item's whereabouts, for he still did not believe that the object they sought would be placed in an obvious location. But he saw nothing, and soon enough they were approaching the main hall at speed through what must have been a servants' corridor.

"For Asgard!" Thor bellowed as he burst through the doors into the main hall.

Fifty guards were waiting for them as they tumbled out of the passageway, and weapons clashed seconds later. Loki paused in the doorway, took in the situation in a heartbeat, and turned invisible the heartbeat after that. There were simply too many, and more would be coming. And as much as it would be novel to see his brother fail at something, Loki could not permit it, not when he could do something about it. Hopefully Thor would survive long enough for the tactic to work.

Skirting the edges of the battle, he examined the room. There were several other doors leading out of the hall, a raised dais near windows that overlooked the sea, and a walkway circling the whole room like an extended balcony. It seemed the best place to start, and Loki carefully made his way to the stairs near the main entrance. Cries of "out" and "dead" sounded below him as he climbed, but he was more interested in the footprints in the thick dust ahead of him. He saw no guards on the walkway, no hint of fortifications or traps. It _had_ to be close by.

"Out," called a dour voice, and Loki looked down, surprised. Hogun was out? Thor, Sif, and Fandral were fighting back to back, completely encircled by Varangians. _Hurry_, he told himself, and nearly flew up the rest of the stairs, following those tell-tale footprints. They led him to an alcove housing a massive statue of some ancient Asgardian warrior. The thick dust on its pedestal was unmistakably disturbed, and after only a moment he saw a handle poking out from behind the sculpted cape—perhaps an ax handle?

"There you are," he whispered, reaching out. He could feel its power before his hand came within a foot of it, and when he wrapped long fingers around the handle its energy thrummed through him like the beating of a great bass drum. Smiling, Loki pulled at it.

It did not budge so much as an inch. His smile disappearing, he yanked at it again before wrapping both hands around it and trying a third time. It would not move. _This must be some trick of father's to ensure only Thor will win the prize_, he realized with dismay.

Loki turned and looked down at the seething mass of fighters. The three still fought, but even as he watched Fandral was dragged down and out of sight. Dropping his invisibility, Loki called out as loud as he could. "Brother! Up here! To me!"

Thor's startled gaze honed in on him, and he waved frantically. "Up! Come up!" He raised a hand and cast an illusion of fire on the Varangians standing between his brother and the staircase, hoping they would be forced to clear a path. And fall away they did, long enough for Thor and Sif to run to stairs.

"Good going, brother! I was wondering where you—watch out!"

Loki ducked and rolled, and it was the only thing that saved him. A blunted sword clanged off the balcony rail, and he looked up to see the captain of the Varangian Guard looming above him. His green eyes widened as the man raised the sword again, and he scrambled like a crab to evade the next blow. Again and again the strikes came, Loki barely managing to avoid them, giving him no chance to draw a weapon, to get to his feet, to win even the second's concentration needed to cast a spell.

And then an ax came between him and the captain's blade. Thor's foot kicked out, catching the man in the stomach and sending him flying. Loki gasped for breath even as Sif reached down, caught him under the arms and pulled him upright. "Behind the statue," he panted, gesturing to the alcove, wanting nothing more but for this game to be over.

"Loki, defense!" Sif cried, spinning them to face the soldiers spilling up the stairs. Her sword darted out, and he threw one of his remaining blades...

And from behind them a small shockwave knocked them all off balance.

Barely managing to stay on his feet, Loki whirled to see Thor holding a large hammer, a look of wonder on his face. Power radiated from it, so real he could feel it vibrating against his skin. And he recognized it suddenly, recognized the hammer he had seen so many times before leaning unceremoniously against a pillar in the weapons vault. He had never paid it much attention, not when there were so many other powerful artifacts enshrined with ceremony on pillars and pedestals.

Around them the Varangians lowered their weapons and knelt, and Captain Anundr approached with a proud smile. "Well done, my prince. You have won the day."

Thor managed to tear his gaze from the hammer and grinned at the captain. "A good fight; your men do Asgard proud!" He swung the hammer, testing its weight, and then gave the wall an experimental hit.

There was a loud crunch and a large crack split the wall—a crack that immediately began to grow and splinter across the ancient surface.

"Oops," Thor said with a sheepish smile, but Loki watched in mounting alarm the crack grow up toward the ceiling and down past the floor of the walkway. Then the entire structure rumbled ominously.

"Run!" he cried, turning and racing down the stairs around the kneeling guardsmen. The hall continued to shake, dust and small bits of plaster now shaking down from the ceiling. Everyone was fallowing his lead now, those on the stairs, those who had remained in the hall, even Thor himself. The younger prince led the way, swifter by far than the larger, heavily armored men who followed, winning free of the shuddering, shaking hall and putting a good distance between himself and it before turning to see what was happening.

Sumarlidr Hall shivered like a freezing man, and obscured by its walls interior objects fell and crashed louder even than the waves against the rocky shore. Even as the others poured out of its gaping entrance one of its towers shattered and fell with a roar into the ocean below. Loki gaped, wondering if everyone would get out in time as his brother and all of their friends but Volstagg grouped around him to watch the hall's inevitable fall.

It was slow at first. Another tower shuddered, then slid off its base and collapsed to the ground in a shower of dust and debris. Cracks split the main walls like reverse lightning, starting from the ground and rising up toward the heavens. There was a pause, and then the entire structure came thundering down with an angry roar.

The watching warriors were pelted with chunks of rock and splinters of wood, slivers of glass and twisted bands of metal. Loki turned his back and covered his face with an arm, protecting himself from stinging debris that could easily have killed a weaker being. Only when the ground stopped shaking and the noise abated did he look back.

All that remained of the hall was a pile of ruins, some settling on the ground, some slipping over the cliff and into the ocean below. Those around him were staring at the ruins shocked silence, silence that stretched until Loki put his hand on Thor's shoulder and smiled weakly. "Good going, brother."

Thor turned to stare at him, then suddenly started to laugh. It was contagious, apparently, for soon the area rang with laughter almost as loud as the collapse of Sumarlidr Hall. Only Loki did not join in; the younger prince stared at the hammer held so casually in his brother's hand. _An object of such power. . . and father is giving it to him, isn't he?_

The answer was obvious, and Loki felt the small level of parity with his brother he had won through his use of magic slip away and disappear as thoroughly as the towers that had slipped into the sea.

_(end part thirteen)_


	14. Chapter 14 Expectations

_Author's note: _I was away on vacation, and saw that _Thor _was at the dollar theater. So I dragged all my friends to see it, as they were unenlightened as to the beauty that is Loki. =D And they liked it, yay! **hots4aTrickers93,** **lapin d'Alice**, and all the others, thanks for the feedback! It makes writing more fun. (Standard disclaimer: I don't own Loki, Thor, Jane, Erik, or Darcy. Just obsessing over Marvel's movie.)

**Know Your Place, part fourteen: Expectations**

"Despite a certain mishap..." Odin Allfather's words were interrupted by peals of laughter from several of those present in the hall, but their father only smiled in good humor. "Despite a certain mishap, my son, which I will admit to foreseeing as a possibility, I am proud of your performance. You losthalf your party, true, but this serves as a double lesson. One, that death is the inevitable result of battle and thus should be approached with respect; two, that all things worth winning require sacrifice."

Loki was not certain how closely his brother was listening to their father's speech. True, those blue eyes gazed up at that wise, lined face, but there was a certain glazed quality to them, and Thor kept stroking the handle of the hammer he had won in a distracted matter, the hammer Odin had told them was named Mjolnir. Loki knew Thor would prefer to be outside, testing its capabilities and learning how to fight with it. But Loki _would_ listen, for he was not one to ignore his father's valuable and increasingly rare lessons.

"Just as importantly, you picked your companions well and used the tools available to you," Odin continued, apparently not noticing his older son's less-than-focused attention. "You will always benefit from strong and capable warriors at your side. But you also have the benefit of wise counsel in the form of Prince Loki, an asset that will give you an advantage over many. A wise leader knows when to listen to counsel and when to forge ahead, and you found that balance."

The corners of Loki's mouth turned down. _Asset? I'm an asset?_ he wondered, and glanced at his mother with a questioning look. She smiled at him, that soothing smile that she had used when he was quite young and upset over some slight or another, and shook her head minutely. He wanted to protest—he was much more than a mere asset—but followed her lead and willed his temper to cool. He had known what he was doing when he had went alone in search of Mjolnir, had known that he would not be lauded along with Thor for this success. He simply had not expected to be downgraded in status to mere asset when it was he who won the day.

"You are a true prince of Asgard, my son, and you do us proud," Odin concluded to a general cheer from the hall. Thor grinned and held Mjolnir aloft, and the cheering redoubled. Odin sat once more, giving those gathered permission to start the party.

Loki soon slipped to his mother's side; he had had enough of parties and was more than ready to bathe and sleep and return to his normal life. But a question was burning inside him, tormenting him like acid eating through gold, and he could not find it in himself to wait any longer. "May I speak with you, mother?" he asked her softly.

"Of course, Loki," she said and, knowing his intention without needing to ask, rose gracefully and walked with him from the hall and to one of the smaller and very private waiting rooms. He felt eyes on his back as they left, and looked back to see Sif's blue gaze focused on him. But then Frigga shut the door behind, and a sudden, peaceful quiet fell on them like a comforting childhood blanket.

He stood still for a moment, savoring the silence, but the acidic question burning mind and soul could not be ignored. Loki took a deep breath, his gaze fixing to the floor between him and his mother, and spoke.

"Am I... is Thor to take the throne, then?" he asked, his voice faltering just slightly. "Is it decided?"

"Dear one, nothing is decided," she said, coming to him and taking one of his hands in both of hers. "Put no hidden meaning into your father's words. He loves you both equally."

"Then why reward him with such a prize?" he asked, unable to keep a twinge of jealousy out of his voice no matter how hard he tried. He looked up quickly, green eyes conflicted. "Without me Thor would have failed; he would never have found Mjolnir."

Frigga made a soft, soothing sound and lifted a hand to smooth mussed hair from his forehead. "But you made certain he did not fail, just as Thor will never let you fail. My dearest, no matter which one of you ultimately sits on the throne, the two of you are meant to rule together. If Thor is named heir, he will need your counsel and your skills. And if you are named heir, you will be able to rely absolutely on his strength against any enemy. Together you will rule Asgard and safeguard its people."

He sighed, her words soothing away the tension that had stiffened his body ever since his father had uttered that one word. "I'm reading too much into this, aren't I?" he asked ruefully.

She chuckled warmly. "The day you stop examining and poking at things I will know something is wrong with you." Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead.

"Now be a good son and escort me to my rooms," she continued, stepping back and stroking his hair again. "I confess I grow weary of parties, and if I eat any more I shall fit into none of my gowns."

Smiling, Loki stepped to her side and offered her his arm.

**. . . . .**

The woman—this Jane Foster—was smart. Even though Loki did not understand all that he saw in her workplace, one fact was inescapable: She might not know it yet, but she had the potential to reconnect Midgard and Asgard before his people managed to rebuild the Bifrost.

She had chatted excitedly about the prospect with the man named Erik as Loki lurked invisibly around the room's periphery. Thor's name had come into the conversation more than once, much to his annoyance. The girl was infatuated, just like so many girls before her, and it gave her brilliance a focus it would not otherwise have had. It was a dangerous combination, one Loki knew could enhance her success. After all, his obsession to be Thor's equal had without question lead to his own grand achievements in magic.

He stayed out of her way as she flitted around the room, remaining close to one of the glass walls as he watched her, contemplatively rubbing his upper lip with a finger. She could bring his brother here before he was ready, before he could secure his power, something he very much did not want to happen. Perhaps it would be wise to stop her. It would be easy enough to do without raising any suspicions. These mortals were, after all, a frail lot.

A blue-white bolt of lightning flashed from stormy sky to the ground, followed instantly by a deafening crash of thunder. Loki flinched and staggered, his hands flying to his chest, even as the lights went out and the girl called Darcy shrieked. For a moment Loki was not in the dismal Misgardian room—he was back on the Bifrost, Mjolnir's lightning searing through him and sending him flying, lightning that could fracture solid rock and incinerate lesser beings where they stood. He had never before in his long life felt such pain, and for an eternal moment the memory of it burned him almost as badly as the real thing.

Thankfully his gasps of pain were hidden by the beeps and whirs of various machines protesting the abrupt change in the power that fed them. The mortals did not notice the faint thud as he fell back against the glass, his knees weak beneath him. They were much too busy for that.

"Quick, save everything before the backup power goes down," Jane called as she ran from machine to machine. The other two sprang into action as Loki took deep breaths, willing the memory of pain away. It was not easy, not with the storm thundering around him, not when his flesh still bore the scars of his brother's wrath.

"Guess we're done for the night, then," young Darcy announced more than asked as they shut down the last of the mysterious machines and the room plunged into darkness illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning from the storm that had broken overhead. "I'm outta here."

"She's right, Jane," Selvig said. "Get some rest; you could use it."

"This is so frustrating!" Jane snatched up a worn black journal. "I'm close, I know it."

The older man smiled at her fondly even as Loki glared from across the room. "Just remember, once you solve it, we'll still have to build it. And power it, Jane, something that isn't going to be so easy."

She sighed but nodded. "Why don't you ask SHIELD what they've got to offer? It can't hurt."

Selvig chucked but nodded. "Why not? All they can do is lock me away never to be seen again."

"Or shoot you," Darcy offered cheerfully as she flounced out into the rain, opening some sort of portable shelter over her as she went.

"Or shoot me," the man echoed, though he seemed to be taking the prospect more seriously. Loki thought he was wise; Coulson seemed capable of many things.

"You'll be fine," Jane noted, her voice sardonic. "Come on, let's go."

Moments later Loki was alone in the odd glass and stone building, though it was not silent. The patter of rain was loud, and the occasional rumble of thunder could only remind him of his brother.

"Coincidence," he muttered as he straightened and headed into the center of the room. Thor could not have summoned this storm, not from his prison in Asgard. He did not have such power. "Pure coincidence."

Still, perhaps it would be wise not to harm the girl at this time. Heimdall could not see him, but he could see what happened to Jane Foster—in fact, he was most likely watching her often, for he had always liked Thor and would do as asked.

"Never liked me though, did you?" he murmured, sifting through the charts on the desk, not needing human light to see. "I suppose you've been proved right now, yes, along with Sif and Hogun."

The thought of the smug looks those three likely wore these days was almost enough to make him crumple the papers beneath his hand, but Loki resisted the urge. No trace of his presence must be found here. Only when he was ready to be known would he work a few changes in her machines and in her calculations.

Loki continued to circle the room, his thoughts whirling. He needed to make Midgard his own stronghaven, to cause enough chaos that he could take control. For that he would need an army, and thankfully he had an idea of where to get one. The true problem would be getting them here. He would first need to discover the path from their world to this one. Easy enough, given time and quiet. The second problem was one of power. Certainly he could hold open a gate to admit a handful at a time, as he had for the Frost Giants, but if he was going to bring through a large enough force to cause true chaos then he needed a power source to weave into the spell, so that the energy came from it instead of him own body.

He chuckled. There was a better reason to keep Jane Foster alive, much better than his brother's reaction. She would also need a strong power source to power her bridge. Once she made or obtained one, he would simply claim it as his own.

Chaos. It was the easiest environment for him to act in, for him to shape and manipulate to his own advantage. He had done the same in Asgard, though this time he would have to be more careful. If he had only thought to push ice-encased Heimdall off the damn bridge and into the ocean he would be in Asgard now, enjoying the approval and perhaps even gratitude of his father.

"You were too confident," he murmured to himself, coming to a rest in front of shelf of books in the kitchen. "A mistake worthy of Thor."

He ran long fingers along their spines; he had time, hours of it, and books had been his constant companions as long as he could remember. He needed to learn more of this world, in any case, and how better to do it than read? Kneeling, he began to read the titles printed on the mostly slender volumes.

_The Complete Idiot's Guide to Understanding Einstein._ The corners of Loki's mouth quirked up. He could never bring himself to open a book with _complete idiot_ in the title.

_Norse Mythology: A Guide to Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs_. His amused expression turned into a scowl. Loki knew all too well the slander that he would find there.

"Though I suppose I could start living up to it," he said softly as his fingers travelled to the next book.

_Four Great Tragedies: Othello, Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth._ Scowl fading into curiosity, Loki pulled the volume off the shelf. Literature was always a good introduction to a culture, assuming the culture was advanced enough to even have literature. Apparently the author, this Shakespeare, was considered one of the greatest Midgard had to offer, at least according to the claim on the cover.

Satisfied, he stood and glanced around. He would need a place to leave his body where it would not be found, as he planned to simply ride inside Selvig's mind instead of attempting to accompany him invisibly. There were too many things that could go wrong if he was physically present at the SHIELD base. A long moment of exploring led him to the roof, and even though it was still raining he smiled. The star that normally illuminated the roof was unpowered now, but he could see well enough through the dark and the wet that there was enough space under its structure for him to sit comfortably. It was out of the way; certainly no one would stumble upon him tucked away between its metal beams.

But as he had hours until the morning, he returned to the kitchen, appropriated some bread and cheese for his own consumption, and, sitting at the small table, opened the book and began to read.

_Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,  
>In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,<br>Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,  
>I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:<br>But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,  
>Evades them, with a bombast circumstance<br>Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;  
>And, in conclusion,<br>Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,  
>'I have already chose my officer.'<em>

Loki paused, a cool smile somehow making his face even more angular. "I think I may like you, Iago," he said softly. As the thunder rumbled softly and the rain pattered against the glass walls, the younger prince of Asgard settled in comfortably to one of his favorite pastimes.

In his own bed, Erik Selvig muttered and turned in his sleep, uncertain foreboding invading his slumbering mind.

_(end part fourteen)_


	15. Chapter 15 Luck be a Lady

_Author's note: _Okay, so I delayed finishing this chapter so I could see _Captain America_ as I had a fleeting impression that the _Avengers_ tease at the end might change this story. I'm glad I did, because more than the trailer changed things—the movie changed things! So be warned: there are a few small spoilers for _Captain America_ here. Nothing that should spoil the main plot, but I am lifting some details from it. Fair warning!

As always, I don't own Loki, Thor, or the few lines of dialog I lifted from the movie. Please don't sue!

**Part 15: Luck be a Lady**

The morning went smoothly. Someone possessing lesser confidence might think things were going too smoothly, but Loki had no such qualms. The plan was perfect. His body was hidden away and invisible in an all-but-inaccessible spot. His consciousness was ensconced in a quiet corner of Erik Selvig's mind so subtly that the mortal scientist would never notice the foreign presence shadowing his thoughts. And after an awkwardly quiet several-hour drive, the SHIELD vehicle pulled into a very secure facility, the guarding of which Loki paid strict attention to through Selvig's innocent eyes.

Coulson passed them through the gate perimeter and through security, then led them through several halls before depositing them in an elevator with a curt hint of their subterranean destination. The Asgardian could not help but become a little frustrated as the scientist rambled half-lost through the darkened halls—_how could a smart man be so clueless?_—but he did not want to intrude into Selvig's consciousness for so trivial a reason. Better to leave him untampered with until it was truly necessary.

Finally they arrived in the correct location. Technically Loki knew it was the correct place because of the markings on the wall, but in truth it was because of the man standing at the end of the hall. Though hidden in shadow, his attitude and body language silently screamed _power_. This, perhaps, was the man behind SHIELD, the man Coulson spoke for. As Selvig attempted tedious jokes—_I was thinking that you had taken me down here to kill me_—Loki watched and listened.

There was almost tangible power in the mysterious man's presence; Loki did not need to be here in body to recognize that. It was a flickering candle compared to the bright blaze of Odin, but still much brighter than other any mere mortal he had encountered. When the man stepped out of the shadows, however, Loki started—the dark-skinned man lacked an eye, just as his father did.

_Coincidence. Mere coincidence_, he reassured himself as Selvig babbled on.

It was not until the man opened the case that Loki's interest was caught in a vice. One look through Selvig's eyes was enough for him to know that this was everything he needed, nicely packaged into a palm-sized glowing cube. Familiarity tugged at the corners of his mind; he knew the object somehow. But though he could not yet identify it he wanted it. He would have it.

_Well I guess that's worth a look_, he whispered into Selvig's mind, directly influencing the scientist for the first time that day. Erik parroted the words, and later he would think he had come up with them on his own.

"Between you and Ms. Foster we'd like to see a quick resolution to the mystery," the man said as Loki/Selvig bent forward for a closer look.

"So would I." The words came out of Selvig's mouth mere moments after Loki supplied them. "And Jane will be fascinated."

"Then we can count on both of you cooperating." It was a statement, not a question.

Loki/Selvig looked up. "I'd like to bring this back to New Mexico. Between the two of us, with Jane's equipment, we might figure this out soon enough."

"Out of the question." The curt answer did not surprise Loki. "This is the only facility nearby with enough security. The two of you will have to come here."

"It was worth a try," Loki/Selvig said with a chuckle. "It won't be easy to get her away from her research, not without an incentive. If we decipher this for you, she'll want to use it for her own project. Will that be possible?"

The man did not answer for a moment, but glared sternly at the possessed scientist. Finally he made one tiny nod. "It's a possibility."

"Okay then," Loki/Selvig said. "I'll take a preliminary look now, shall I?"

The man nodded, closed the case, and turned. "Follow me. And remember: do not touch it."

The prince retained control of Selvig's mind and body as they were settled into a lab, desiring to examine the cube unfettered by the man's expectations and limited knowledge. It was easy enough to cast the illusion of noise in one corner to distract the other scientists in the room, and while their attention was diverted he held his hand a hair's width above the cube. Familiar sensation flooded through him, and with it certain knowledge. _Tesseract._ The name reverberated in his mind, and memory engulfed him.

_Running through the weapons vault with Thor, following in Odin's footsteps. Objects of power tucked away in niches, on pedestals, on shelves, each with its own story, its own name. Sometimes Odin would tell them tales of where they came from. In all that time, only one object had disappeared. When Loki asked about it, his father had only smiled gently, shook his head, and instead took them to the end of the vault to tell them of the Jotuns and the Cask of Ancient Winters..._

Loki/Selvig blinked as reality reasserted itself, and the Asgardian was thankful he had not touched the cube; it would have obliterated Selvig's body. It was easily powerful enough for his purposes, perhaps on par with the Cask of Ancient Winters. It felt different from that artifact, of course; it was foreign to him, not crafted by the race whose heritage he so unwillingly shared, nor by any other race he had encountered. But he would be able to tap the power easily, for he could feel it pulsing, ready to escape its prison, ready to waken and serve a master who could truly tame its power. An immortal.

Smiling to himself, Loki pulled back into his corner of the scientist's mind, becoming a passive passenger once more. He allowed Selvig to examine the cube without interference, finding some interest in the mortal's perspective. The science that passed for magic in this realm was infinitely complex and yet incredibly limited. If they only would take off their blinders to the existence of real magic and combine it with technology . . . well, if they did they would be a power in the universe instead of being backward, mocked Midgard.

Yet Selvig's thoughts grew tedious after a while. For Loki the mystery was solved and there were decisions to make, the most important of which was how he would claim the cube. Infiltrating the base would be simple. Leaving with the cube—that would be difficult. Its absence would be noted immediately, and he understood the mortal technology well enough to know they could likely track its location anywhere within this structure. Once he took it, they would be able to find him and he would need a quick escape. The alternative would be to kill them all, an option he found tasteless.

_If there are paths, if I could hope for just a little luck. . . ._

Luck had never been his friend; she seemed to love Thor while insisting Loki work diligently to ensure success. Thus he did not expect this easiest of solutions to bear fruit as he carefully crafted a tendril of magical energy visible only to him. Selvig's puppet hand raised it to his mouth, and Loki whispered to it like a lover before blowing on it gently, sending it out into the lab. He watched it snake its way into the hall, extending like a sinuous vine from Loki/Selvig's palm, seeking the impossibly unlikely.

After a few long moments he felt luck smile on him more warmly than she ever had before.

There was a portal not far from the main gate, similar to the one through which he had smuggled the Jotuns into Asgard. Loki's surprise was so great that Selvig actually froze for a moment, unable to process the invasive sensation. Trying not to laugh, Loki backed off, dissolved the tendril, and let the scientist continue his work. After that all there was to do was settle in and wait for the mortal to be collected for the return trip.

Selvig's report to the man in charge—Nick Fury, as Loki finally learned—was composed more of questions than answers, helped along by a few misdirects supplied the self-exiled prince. No need for them to understand too much, not when their ignorance was to his benefit. A few days was all he needed to prepare, and then the Tesseract would be his.

**. . . . .**

"And thus I am blessed with two strong sons, one more than any father could hope to have. To you, Prince Loki, on your coming of age." Odin Allfather raised his chalice in salute.

"Prince Loki," echoed the gathered attendees, firelight glinting off upraised golden goblets.

The focus of the celebration smiled faintly and inclined is head to his father. Thor elbowed him in the side and grinned, causing Loki to press his lips together in order not to chuckle. Across the table Fandral and Volstagg raised their glasses higher than the rest.

"Thank you father," he answered, holding up his own chalice to Odin and Frigga. Then he looked down the table, toasted the hall, and drank. A quiet cheer echoed off the golden walls, and if it was weaker than the cheers for his brother those several years ago the young prince gave no sign.

"You have become a strong warrior," Odin continued, "and more than that you are a master of skills rarely seen in Asgard, skills that enhance the strength of our people. And thus I would give you this in recognition of your talents and your importance to us."

A servant standing quietly at the Allfather's side handed him a large leather tome, which Odin in turn passed to his younger son. Surprised, Loki accepted the heavy tome, its cover so aged that what looked to have been green leather (or was it scales?) had darkened mostly to black. If any words had ever graced cover or spine they had long since worn away.

_This—this is it?_ he asked himself, uncertainty sweeping through him. The book looked promising, yes, but. . . . Loki slipped on a smiling mask and made himself look up. "You honor me."

His father's blue eye twinkled, and he raised his cup again to Loki. Draining it, he sat, giving everyone else permission to begin the last feast in a week of celebration.

"I can think of nothing more fitting," Thor laughed, slapping him on the back. "Your rooms have more books than the library by now."

"Perfectly fitting," Sif echoed with her own musical laugh. "Congratulations, Loki."

The younger prince continued to smile, handing the tome to a solicitous servant who promised to deliver it to Loki's chambers. Any other day he might have kept it with him, curiously exploring its contents. Tonight his curiosity was dry and dead as ashes. There would be no challenge set for him, no arena in which to prove himself or show his capabilities.

And there would be no Mjolnir, no ancient object of power entrusted to his care.

Loki smiled and drank and even joked through the night, playing harmless tricks of illusion on and for the celebrants and otherwise maintaining the appearance that all was fine, that he did not mind that even now the smiles his brother received were more genuine that the ones given him, and that it was Thor they strove to impress while giving Loki pleasant respect.

He escaped only in the young hours of the morning, long after his father and mother had excused themselves. Fandral had chased a laughing woman toward her chambers, Hogun and Sif had excused themselves at some point, and Thor was eyeing a blonde further down the table. Volstagg, of course, was still eating, but if Loki had waited for that appetite to be satiated he would be sitting there until the end of all the realms.

Yet he stopped short of his chambers in surprise. Frigga sat in an arched window in the hall, predawn light paying softly around her slender form as she read from a slender volume. Even though he had made no sound, his mother looked up and graced him with a golden smile. Putting her book aside, she rose and came to him.

"Happy birthday," she said simply.

Loki took her hand and kissed it. "You should not have waited up for me."

"Nonsense," she said, easily dismissing his objections. "I will do as I please, and it pleases me to congratulate my younger son. Is he well?"

Her smile and tone remained the same, but warm concern shown in her eyes, eyes that now looked up to meet her son's gaze. Suddenly Loki realized that she had seen through the mask, that she knew of the qualms, the misgivings, the sheer uncertainty that had plagued him ever since Odin had bestowed his gift. Though he had lied—if only by omission—all night, he did not want to lie to her, and yet that was exactly what he did.

"Well enough. My place is set and I know my destiny," he said quietly, eyes lowering from hers. "It is not such a bad thing."

Frigga pursed her lips and shook her head. "Loki—" she began, but he forestalled her by taking her hands in his.

"Do not worry yourself, mother," he said with a faint smile that spoke volumes more than he knew. "Father's intentions are clear. And Thor is the eldest. It makes sense that he. . . ."

She frowned and reached out to caress his cheek, but he shook his head, stepped back, and raised both his hands before him in a forbidding but still polite gesture. "Truly, mother, I'm fine."

Loki bowed to her, an elegant gesture from the waist that she believed no prince should have ever thought to master. Then he turned away, his head and shoulders head high, his back straight. Only a mother could have seen the defeat in her child's strong if slender form as he disappeared through the door to his chambers.

Frowning, Frigga watched for a moment the empty space where her son had been. Then, with a twirl of her golden skirts, she walked with sharp purpose to the chambers she shared with Odin Allfather.

Finally alone in his chambers, Loki stripped off his ceremonial cape and golden armor, trading fancy clothes for a simple green tunic and soft brown trousers. Claiming his coming-of-age gift from where it rested on a table, he sat on his bed crosslegged and barefoot and rested the heavy leather tome on his knees.

It was ancient; he knew that simply by opening it and looking at the cramped runes dancing across thick vellum pages. Some of the runes he did not recognize, while others were arranged in archaic groupings that would require some time for him to decipher.

_Well, at least it will be a challenge._ An enigma could at least distract him from his disappointment for a little while. He doubted even Odin knew the exact nature of this volume other than it was ancient magic.

Too tired to delve into the mystery tonight, Loki contented himself with turning the pages, studying illustrations and attempting to decipher the headings. Some were impossibly difficult and some were depressingly mundane. But halfway through a phrase caught his eye:

_"Of the hidden ... between the worlds and ... walking."_

Loki blinked and read it again, puzzled and, for the first time since he had opened the book, intrigued.

_(end part fifteen)_


	16. Chapter 16 Switching Places

_Author's note:_ This one's a little short; sorry! I've been struggling to expand it, then realized that I shouldn't be struggling and I was just prolonging things stupidly. I hope to get the next one up much more quickly! As always, Marvel owns Loki, Thor, etc.

**Know Your Place, part sixteen: Switching Places**

It had taken him so long to master walking the paths between worlds that Loki had often despaired of ever mastering it, much less even finding one of the paths described in the book Odin had bequeathed him for his coming of age. Months of frustration led to years of vexation, and only his tenacity had allowed him to finally locate the path from Asgard to Jotunheim. That discovery had slowly led to others. They were few, old, and set in their ways, resistant to all travelers except the exceptionally strong-willed. It was the most difficult magical task he had ever set for himself.

If his old self could have seen what his current self was seeing, he would have wept for joy. As it was, Loki lay on his dingy hotel bed and laughed.

There were paths _everywhere._ Midgard was full of them; they ran from continent to continent, town to town, middle-of-nothing to middle-of-nothing. They intersected. Even better, they were malleable, so responsive to his magic that he suspected he could connect them and perhaps—given enough time—redirect them.

"Teleportation in all but name," he told the water-stained ceiling, though the ceiling was not what he was looking at. He had sent out a strand of energy as he had from the SHIELD base, searching for the doorway he had identified so he could learn where it led. But instead the tendril had found a path only a mile away from his current location. Though he was curious he did not explore, simply noting its location but sending the energy on toward the base. Then it found another, and another, and that was when he realized that one tendril simply would not suffice.

Several tendrils had not sufficed. In the end Loki called them all back, summoned a marker from the hotel office, and drew a circle of interwoven sigils and glyphs on the bedspread. Lying down in its center, he closed his eyes, murmured a few words of ancient Asgardian, and let his consciousness expand. Soon all he could see were paths: paths stretching out to the horizons, paths to the stars, paths connecting Midgard to the other realms. He could go anywhere he desired.

"This is not exile," he whispered to himself, the exhilaration in his soul leaving him weightless. "This is freedom."

**. . . . .**

"Why does father need to negotiate with those twisted little men, anyway?" Thor demanded as he slouched on one of the three couches surrounding the fire pit of the golden room he and their friends had long ago claimed as their own. "He is the Allfather. How dare they even ask for some sort of concession?"

Fandral and Hogun shrugged while Vostagg simply munched on a sandwich. Even Sif remained quiet at Thor's side, though Loki was not surprised—she was interested only in swordplay. The intricacies of diplomacy were lost on her, and his brother, and the Warriors Three.

_This is the man father will someday name king_, he thought, looking at his brother's sprawled form before clearing his throat. "The Duergar are masters of their craft, capable of creating objects of great power beyond the capabilities of Asgard. Why should they not maneuver for advantage?"

"Because Asgard is Asgard, brother," Thor said, blue eyes finding Loki where he stood gazing into the fire, "the most powerful of all the nine realms. They owe us their allegiance."

He shrugged. "It is not so simple, as you well know. They are not our servants or our slaves, to do as we bid without question. They are their own people—stunted, dark, and cave-dwelling though they may be."

Sif snorted in derision. "So you sympathize with them, do you?" she asked Loki with one of her dagger-smiles, provoking a laugh from Thor.

Cool green eyes found her for a moment and dismissed her just as quickly. "The point being, they are a sovereign people with superior skills. Any Duergar leader would be a fool to forego negotiating what Odin asks of them, especially when his proposal will increase Asgard's military power."

"Power that will be used in their defense," his brother pointed out quickly, provoking a shrug from Loki.

"Defense from what? The only true threats to the realms have not been able to leave Jotunheim for centuries. Our cutting down a few wargs from time to time or disposing of the random serpent is not enough to demand complete subservience."

"Bah." Thor dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "It is an embarrassment. Father should put them in their place."

The younger prince rolled his eyes. "I'm sure the Duergar would be happy to give us the ultimate fruits of their expert labor in return for you not dropping Mjolnir on their heads. They would not dream of providing inferior crafts out of spite."

"Exactly," Thor said with a grin. "I'm glad we finally agree."

Loki opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, and gave up. Perhaps he would ask their father to explain it to his thick-headed brother, but he doubted Odin would bother. His golden son could do no wrong; more than likely he would chalk it up to youthful enthusiasm.

"That was an interesting tactic you devised at practice today," Fandral noted to Thor, smoothly changing the subject as he was wont to do whenever he sensed the potential for conflict between the princes. "Do you think it would work in an actual battle?"

"Yes, of course," the older prince said, brightening. At his place by the fire, Loki exhaled gently and mentally withdrew from the conversation. "In fact, I think—"

Thor had no chance to expand on his theory; the doors to the room banged open to reveal one of the royal guards. "Odin Allfather sends for his sons."

Loki glanced at Thor, who shrugged and got to his feet. "We come," his brother answered as Sif and the Warriors Three shifted in their seats, preparing to follow. The guardsman shook his head, and they sat back as Loki followed Thor out of the room and down the hall toward their parents' chambers.

"My sons," Odin greeted them as they entered. He stood in the center of the room, while their mother sat to the side on one of the ornate couches. "Come in."

Loki looked to Thor as they advanced, but his brother simply gazed at their father with an excited grin on his handsome face. _Does he know something that I don't?_ the younger prince wondered as the doors closed behind them.

"As you both know, I will be travelling to Svartalfheim to conclude negotiations with the Duergar. I would take one of you with me."

_Ah, of course._ The possibility had not occurred to Loki, but now he knew why Thor seemed so enthusiastic. Any excuse to travel was a welcome one for them all, and Thor had often accompanied his father on his visits to the other realms. _Though my brother is a poor choice of diplomats._

"Thor, my son, you will remain here to assist your mother as she rules in my absence. Loki, you will accompany me."

Loki blinked in surprise and looked swiftly at his mother, who winked at him conspiratorially and mouthed _happy birthday_ at him. He managed not to grin and simply nodded to her as Thor spluttered a protest. "But father, I should be at your side. I do not trust these Duergar, but faced with Mjolnir they would not dare—"

The Allfather smiled and shook his head. "There is no danger to me from that race of craftsmen. And now that he is of age it is your younger brother's turn to accompany me. It is only fair."

_Fair_. Loki sensed his mother's influence in the word, but he would take the offering even if it did not originate from Odin. "I am honored," he said simply.

"And I will need you here," Frigga said, rising and coming to Thor's side. Smiling, she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps it is I who will need Mjolnir's strength."

Thor started to protest, but then his blue eyes found Loki's excited face and subsided. "Very well. But if you need me. . . ."

"I will send for you," Odin said with a laugh. "Do not worry, son. The Duergar present a threat only to our treasury. Now, Loki, go pack. We leave in the morning."

The younger prince nodded and left, followed by Thor all the way into his chambers. As soon as they were alone his brother began to speak. "You must be careful and stay on guard. I know you think little of the Duergar. . . ."

"I think them excellent craftsmen," Loki interrupted, but Thor continued without marking his words.

"But they are sneaky, tricky, and they likely possess weapons we know little of. Father will have his guards, but you are superior to them. His safety is your biggest concern. Do you understand, Loki?"

"Of course, brother," he said, standing in front of his closet trying to decide on what to bring. Would it be cold or hot? It could be either, or both. "But how much of a threat will they truly be? Odin will have Gungnir. What weapon of the Duergar could possible stand up to that?"

"Never underestimate a knife in the dark," Thor answered seriously. "You will be on their territory. It gives them the advantage."

"I know that," he said, exasperated. "But there is no advantage to them in injuring or killing father. It would, in fact, be a distinct _disadvantage._ They would lose the gold we pay them, and they are no warriors. You would succeed our father and that would be the end of their race."

"I hope you are right," Thor rumbled, crossing his arms across his broad torso. "All the same, do not drop your guard."

Loki turned, giving him a reassuring smile. "I value our father as much as you do. You can count on me, brother, you know this."

Thor huffed, but then nodded, the tension draining out of him like ale from a flask. "I do. Keep yourself safe as well, little brother. I hate not being there to stand at your side." Opening his arms wide, he engulfed Loki in a hug.

Loki froze for a moment, utterly surprised. He could not remember the last time his brother had outright hugged him. The creaking of his ribs brought him out of his trance, however, and he patted Thor's back with a hand that might soon lose circulation. "Thank you. Now let me breathe, or are you trying to force me to stay here by sending me to the healing rooms?"

Thor chuckled and released him, stepping back. "Tempting. You'll join us for dinner tonight, yes? The others will want to wish you well and see you off."

_I highly doubt that, though it's nice he thinks so._ "I'll see you then."

_(end part sixteen)_


	17. Chapter 17 Whispers in the Dark

_Author's note: Again, my apologies for the delay. Life is kicking me around at the moment, and I've been focused on finding a new job. *sigh* Anyway, here's the newest installment! I'm giving up on the thought that this will ever be compliant with the Avenger's movies, but that's okay! __J__ And just as a note, I'm really not down on Thor as much as it might seem in some of my chapters. Remember, this is from Loki's POV!_

_As always, I do not own Loki, Thor, or anything else that could be considered Marvel's property._

**Know Your Place, part seventeen: Whispers in the Dark**

Svartalfheim was not what Loki expected, even though he had read descriptions of it in books. He knew the Druergar had carved massive halls out of the caves riddling the realm's rocky subsurface, but the descriptions failed to do justice to the truth of what he saw.

The audience hall was massive, nearly the scale of Asgard's golden hall. The ceiling stretched further than the light, leaving its true height shrouded in shadow and mystery. Marble pillars thick as centennial trees sprouted from the floor as if grown from seeds—and in truth, the sinuous decorations twining their bases looked so organic that Loki could not justly describe them as carved—and stretched wide and powerful into the darkness overhead. Quartz, gypsum, and celestite sparkled in the dark marble of pillars and walls, catching the light of a thousand lanterns, again in patterns too ordered to be natural but too natural to be crafted. The floor was a giant chessboard of dark and light marble, one square large enough for the entire Asgardian delegation to stand on it uncrowded.

"Such a large place for such small men," he murmured at his father's side. Odin smiled faintly, seemingly at ease in their massive surroundings, but Loki could see the sharp awareness in his eye and his relaxed but strong grip on Gungnir. "Do you expect trouble?"

"Not of any physical sort," his father said quietly so that his voice did not travel.

Loki nodded, but any answer was forestalled by a rumble at the other end of the hall. Two doors, each as tall as a small building, swung ponderously open, and through them came the Clansleader of the Druergar, his entourage, and guard. Loki barely managed to hide a smirk; the doors were meant to evoke wonder, but he could only laugh at how small the already diminutive dwarves appeared in comparison.

It took time for the Druergar on their stunted legs to reach them. The Clansleader was tall enough for one of his people, and yet was barely waist-high to any of the Asgardians. His greasy yellow hair was untamed, arranged in what Loki could only think of as clumps bound together with ties adorned with rubies. He was no uglier than any of his kind; as his features were mostly covered by a clumpy beard Loki could not be certain how ugly the Druergar might in truth be. His garments were of rich cloth imported from other realms (for the only cloth made in the caves were woven of some lichenous growth found in the deep earth), covered in precious metals and gems.

Surrounding him were twelve other Druergar of varying heights and shapes, whom Loki knew to be the heads of the other clans. They were uniformly unattractive to Asgardian eyes, twisted and stunted, their various shades of hair consistently wiry. They dressed richly, though by custom less ostentatiously as the one who had been chosen to lead. Outshining the chosen Clansleader would be considered a challenge to his leadership, though as he looked at them Loki decided that some were coming perilously close to making just such an unspoken challenge. _Perhaps there will be complications after all_.

"Allfather," the blond said with a respectful nod of the head. Thor would have bristled at the greeting, and even Loki had to admit the gesture held less respect than it should. Odin did not see fit to comment, however, so Loki merely raised his chin a shade, looking down at them all, his green eyes flickering in the lamplight. "I offer you the hospitality of the Druergar."

"Clansleader Althjof," Odin replied. "I accept."

"Your presence honors us, as does that of the young prince," Althjof continued, now giving Loki an even shallower nod. His voice was grating, stone dragged across stone. "A feast in your name is arranged, and on the morrow we will open negotiations."

"A good way to mark the continuation of our talks," Odin responded, and Loki knew that he was not the only one who marked the Allfather's emphasis on _continuation_.

Althjof nodded, and the party of Druergar turned to lead the Asgardians through the massive doors and into a slightly smaller hall containing many long tables, their benches full of Druegar who rose to their feet at the appearance of their Clansleader and Odin. A dais holding rich chairs and a smaller table overlooked the hall. Loki was glad to see this room was brighter by a shade—the walls were of red marble instead of black, though he had to admit the overall effect could be considered a tad gruesome.

Clusters of smoky crystals were placed throughout the hall and were somehow lit from within, giving the hall a pleasant-enough glow. He wondered at the method; it was not magic, and yet he could see no hint of how it had been accomplished. Still, Loki found himself missing the golden brightness of Asgard. He also found himself missing windows. The air here, while not stale, held an undercurrent of stillness, smoke, and sweat. It was subtle enough that one could not complain, but he found it objectionable all the same.

Odin was offered the place of honor, with Althjof taking the seat to his left. Another Druergar moved toward the chair at the Allfather's right but froze as Loki fastened his eyes upon him and arched a skeptical eyebrow. Giving him a slightly greasy smile, the small man bowed and gestured for the prince to take the seat instead. The other Asgardians found themselves scattered along the table with Druergar at either side, and for a moment Loki had wondered if his brother had been correct in his fears. But his father did not seem to feel anything was amiss, and two of the royal guard stood at their backs.

_Don't let Thor make you paranoid_, he chided himself as servers began making their way through the hall. There was no sense of betrayal or hostility from any of the Druergar at the table, though Loki could all but taste the hidden undercurrents of intrigue snaking through the hall. Nothing here was settled or certain; it was obvious to Loki that Clanleader Althjof was not as secure in his position as he had claimed in his last visit to Asgard. Perhaps this was all a grand waste of time?

The food certainly was. The fruits of subterranean life offered little that was palatable to Asgardian tastes. All sorts of fungi, oddly metallic ale, albino fish and crustaceans—it was an adventure, but one that Loki found sat uneasily on tongue and stomach alike. He picked at each offering to be polite, but let his attention wander the hall and the Druergar. Soon he decided that each table sat members of one particular clan, most likely grouped by prominence and power. He began to note where each sat, for the knowledge might be useful in his father's negotiations.

As he surveyed the room he felt eyes on him, and after a moment he located the Druergar responsible sitting near the head of a table midway down the hall. It was not easy to make out his features, but there was something familiar there, something that tugged on his memories. The Druergar was small in comparison to his clanmates, even more twisted and dark. When he saw the little man smile and nod to him the memory snapped into place: It was the one who had offered him the net for Sif's hair. The Druergar had been a member of the embassy those many years ago, and yet now sat far down the hall. Certainly his clan's star had fallen, and yet . . . it could be useful, that previous contact, if the negotiations became complex.

Loki nodded, the smallest of gestures, and then let his eyes travel on. Best not to let any of the Druergar at the table note his interest in any one individual or clan. After a long while of pretending to swallow more of the less-than-tasty fare, the prince had his Druergar seatmate tell him the names of the clans and where they were placed in the hall. By the end of the feast Loki at least knew more than when it began, and knew where to find his previous benefactor should the need arise.

It was a relief when the feast ended. The Asgardians were shown to a large suite with separate rooms for Odin and Loki, shared rooms for the other delegates, and one large room for the guards. While it was not on such a grand scale as the halls, the ceilings were twice Loki's height. The walls were of a creamy, smooth stone shot through with golden veins, and plush carpets padded the floor. The furniture was of white wood adorned with carvings of all sorts of wild creatures.

When Odin retired to his room Loki followed, drawing a look of curiosity from his father. "Thor made me promise to keep you safe. He'll pound me into dust if I allow you to go into chambers I haven't inspected," he explained, drawing an amused headshake from Odin.

"The guards have inspected them thoroughly. What do you think you will find?"

"I can inspect in ways they cannot," he answered, pride coloring his words. "They can only identify physical dangers."

Odin sighed, but waved his hand. "As you wish. Get to it, though I think you will find we are perfectly safe."

Loki nodded and paced to the center of the room, then stretched out his hands before him, palms outward. He needed no incantation for this; sensing magic was a skill so basic and ingrained that all he needed to do was simply do it, like Thor picking up Mjolnir or Volstagg downing a mug of mead.

He could see wisps of magic here and there, faint traces of past magics, old and harmless. Loki turned slowly in place, his senses sweeping the walls, then the floor, and finally the ceiling. A small but bright flare of magic hid there, all but obscured in the lantern suspended from the middle of the ceiling. He frowned and probed it carefully with his will before breathing a small sigh of relief. It was no physical threat, at least.

"They wish to listen to what you have to say here," he reported to his father, who was watching him from a large if low chair obviously crafted for those of greater stature than the Druergar. "Would you like me to destroy it?"

Odin did not look surprised, and merely nodded. Loki returned his attention to the light, his brow furrowing, and held out a hand again. This time he did speak, murmuring words to draw the magic to him. It resisted, struggling against the pull of his summons, and Loki sharpened his concentration. Magic was crafted and shaped through talent and will; the stronger the willpower of the caster, the stronger the magic. Whoever had crafted this was no match for a prince of Asgard.

The magic was soon pulsing in his palm, at least until he closed his fingers around it in a fist and crushed it out of existence. "It is done."

"Hmm. Well, I doubt it would have done much harm, but best gone than here," Odin said with a nod. "They would have overheard nothing of use. We should be home soon, else we starve, eh? A real feast would be welcome after that dinner."

Loki smiled faintly and nodded as his father laughed—he was not ravenous but certainly was not satisfied—and spoke in a low, wary voice. "I fear it might not be so easy. The air is unsettled. I can almost hear the whispers, and though I do not know what they say they sound like challenges, either to us or the Clansleader or both."

His father dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "The agreement lacks only the approval of Althjof's counselors, which is a formality and nothing more. Nor am I interested in anything more; they will understand this. Get some sleep, and tomorrow take advantage of your visit by exploring the city. There are wonders you should see, not just read about in books."

The young prince blinked. "I would rather stay at your side through the end of negotiations."

Odin smiled kindly and shook his head. "No, Loki, do not waste your time with these formalities. Enjoy yourself. Learn, as you like to do. And for now, get some sleep."

"But I . . . yes father, if you wish." The concession was galling, for he was certain Thor would never be sent away like this, no matter that his brother would find all of the proceedings deadly dull. Arguing with Odin Allfather, however, was an exercise in futility, and was something that Loki avoided. Discuss, yes. Argue, never. He would never win his father's approval with words; only through deeds would he win the respect he craved.

**. . . . .**

Loki took time to explore some of the paths he had found on Midgard, both the be prepared and to gather the other materials he needed. The Tesseract Cube was a dangerous artifact, and even though he was confident that he could touch it without dying, keeping it properly contained was certainly the intelligent thing to do. He appropriated his supplies from sites across the country, so that SHIELD or any other watchers would be hard-put to notice any patterns. They would know of him soon enough, but they would learn about him when _he_ allowed it.

As he crafted the vessel—a structure of magic and craft, not the crude electronic prison used by SHIELD—he left the television playing, softly, in the background. He had turned it on the first time to see what was in the box that seemed to entrance the inhabitants of Midgard. Repeated watching had not solved that question, but it had taught him a lesson. Midgard was a world of chaos and violence, of famine and terror, of sorrow and pain. Leaders killing their own people. People starving because of changes in the atmosphere wrought by the more advanced nations, while across the ocean others killed themselves by eating too much. Wars and hatred. Neighbors killing neighbors for politics, for sex, for money. They had been trapped in this cycle since Midgard began, and as Loki watched the news he saw the destruction had only gotten worse—and that knowledge brought with it revelation.

He needed Midgard, to be sure. He wanted it, wanted to make it his own place, a place of strength where he could stand against the might of Asgard. But Midgard also needed him. He could take those fragmented nations and form a realm, united under his guidance and strength just as Asgard united under his father. He could offer Midgard peace and strength. Whether its people understood it or not, wanted it or not, he could save them and make them better.

That they would resist, he had no doubt. But that did not matter. What were a few lives lost in resistance compared to the numbers that were lost to disease, famine, and civil war every day of Midgard's existence? They would have a king, and some day after that they would thank him for it.

_(end part seventeen)_


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